A Truth Gone Untold
by Phoenix0725
Summary: After winning a fight at the Colosseum, a gladiator named Portgas D Ace catches the eye of nobleman Marco Phoenix.


_**(A/N) Hey guys! Long time no see. So I did the thing and took part in the OP Big Bang event organized by imperialmint, and I actually managed to go through with it!**_

_**I was paired up with the lovely gagakuma. That's her art I used for the cover of this fanfic (with permission, of course). It's gorgeous, I know :D Check her out on tumblr at gagakuma . tumblr . com**_

**_This story was beta read by lunarshores (as is tradition XD)_**

**_Warnings: slavery, character death, violence, swearing._**

* * *

Marco sighed as he walked up to the podium. He waved his slaves away, took his seat amongst others from the royal family, and looked around the Colosseum.

The crowd had yet to gather. Today was a special day, one that rarely happened. The king had decided to let each member of the royal family- which was quite large, mind you- qualify a slave for today's battle. The owner of the winner would be granted a handsome reward.

Marco had brought one of his most prized fighters. A man by the name of… hmm, well, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what his name was. Never cared to ask. Or demand, really.

Someone sat down next to him. Marco looked up to see the smiling face of his brother, Thatch.

"Hey, Marco! Glad to see you could make it after all!" he shouted as he wrapped an arm around Marco in greeting.

"So am I, Thatch." Marco smiled in return. He had been sure that he'd be staying at his residence instead of coming here, but thankfully, he'd finished his work ahead of schedule.

"So, did you submit anyone to the fights?" Thatch inquired. Marco nodded quietly in answer. "You know you're not going to win, right?" Thatch actually had the audacity to smirk. Marco grinned in return.

"Says you. Do you really think _you'll_ win that money?" Thatch looked like a kicked puppy.

"Well, why wouldn't I? I mean, come on! Look at me- do I look like a loser?" He gestured to himself. Marco sighed.

"Honestly? If you were in that fight you'd be one of the first to die. And, as it is, I _seriously _doubt your gladiator's going to win." Thatch pouted. _Pouted_. The expression looked almost comical on the 35-year-old's face.

"Well, why not? My slaves are good as any!" The corners of Marco's lips turned upwards.

"Maybe, but they don't have any experience fighting, unlike the king's." Marco explained. "All your slaves are accustomed to doing is field work." Thatch glared at him.

"Yours too!" Marco opted to ignore him and instead looked around the Colosseum once more. Most of the seats were full by now. There were at least forty thousand people present. The king had also come sometime during his and Thatch's exchange.

A few minutes later, the fight had begun.

Marco carefully smoothed the material of his toga as the slaves were released. It seemed a few people hadn't submitted anyone to the fights, as there were only about 30 slaves running around in the maze of buildings that made up the arena.

No, not slaves. Now, they were gladiators. And there was one that particularly attracted his attention, which was odd, as he'd never taken specific notice of any single slave before. They were all the same- silent and often unnoticeable, to the point of melting into the background- but for some reason this one stood out. Marco couldn't see much of what the man looked like from he was sitting, but he was able to make out almost sickly-looking pale skin and longish hair tied into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall in his face and hinder him.

One by one, the slaves killed each other off. Not the pale man, though. He had kept conveniently out of sight for most of the battle, killing only one other man- Thatch's slave. Marco could almost feel Thatch deflate beside him. His own fighter had been killed shortly after.

Now, though, with most of the arena stained with red and covered with mutilated corpses, the pale man had no other choice but to get out of hiding and fight. Marco observed him curiously as he came out from behind the building where he had been hiding and approached the other gladiator. The audience was shouting for blood.

The gladiators carefully circled each other. The man Marco had been observing moved forward first. He gripped his dagger- as that had been the only weapon they'd been given, no armor- and ran forward with a speed that left many amazed. The other slave dodged the attack, and proceeded to try to trip the pale man. It didn't work, though, as he jumped over the foot that had been thrust his way.

The fight went on for quite some time, with neither man getting anything but a few scratches. The crowd was getting bored. Marco heard someone behind him ask for the lions to be released, to make the fight more entertaining.

They didn't have to, though, because, when the older, bigger gladiator slowed down due to his exhaustion taking over, the black haired man moved in for the kill. He slashed his dagger across the other's throat. Blood gushed from the wound, the droplets staining the ground and both fighters' faces. The black haired man pushed the other away from him in disgust and wiped his face, only managing to smear the red over his left cheek. The color contrasted beautifully with his pale skin.

An hour later Marco found himself approaching Marshall D Teach, another member of the royal family, to buy this one man that had managed to attract his attention.

* * *

Ace didn't bother looking up at the sound of footsteps, having grown all too used to them during his time spent in his little cell. Nothing interesting ever happened here. The people passing by were usually guards sent to make sure that no one was planning to start a riot. Of course, they didn't mind hitting the slaves in the process, which is why it was better to keep your head down and not do anything to make you stand out.

Ace took a deep breath and scrunched up his nose in disgust. He wished that they'd at least let him wash up. He was covered in sweat, grime, and blood after the fight at the Colosseum.

It's not like that was the first time he'd killed someone- far from it- but that didn't mean that he enjoyed it.

Though he should probably consider himself lucky, seeing as he hadn't gotten any injuries, besides a few minute scratches and bruises here and there. He stretched his legs before him, still sitting with his back against the unforgiving, cold wall of his cell. He barely had enough room to do anything there. If he had to guess, he'd give the cell around four square yards There was a small pile of straw in the corner, but other than that, it was empty. He only got food twice a day, and the portions were small, maybe enough to feed a child of six back at his village, so it was no surprise that his muscles had deteriorated.

Ace put his hand on his bare chest, sliding his fingers over his protruding ribs.

He wasn't sure how long he could keep going like this. Probably not long. Then again, maybe they'd provide for him better now that he won the fight?

Nah, that wouldn't happen. It was just wishful thinking.

The footsteps came to a halt right outside his cell. Hesitantly, Ace looked up to see what was going on. The guard glared at him and spat on him. Ace wiped off the saliva with his hand and gritted his teeth, but let his gaze return to the floor. He'd learned long ago that it was better not to antagonize the guards. It had been a very painful lesson, indeed. The thought of it made the scars on his back throb.

"The Master wants you upstairs. You're leaving this place. He got a good price for you, so don't screw this up, _scum_," the man ground out.

If Ace had been free, he'd have killed the guy for speaking to him that way. Unfortunately, seeing as he wasn't, he had to go along with it. That didn't mean that he didn't plan on getting revenge one day, when he finally got out of this place.

Not now, though. It was still too soon for that.

Ace pushed himself off the floor, grimacing as the movement aggravated one of the injuries he'd received as 'punishment' for something he'd done. Oddly enough, he didn't recall giving them any reason to treat him that way. He brushed dirt off his pants (although they were torn in far to many places to even _resemble _pants anymore) and moved to the door. The guard reached in to handcuff him before unlocking the door and letting him out.

As they walked through the dank, dark corridors underneath the mansion, the guard holding the chain connected to his cuffs, Ace's eyes were continuously darting to the other slaves, all sitting on their respective cells. Most of them looked just like he felt- worn and exhausted. They would probably never get out of here.

That brought Ace's thoughts to his new master. He doubted that he could be any worse than Marshall D Teach, but it was possible. These nobles were all the same- they thought that that they were the most important creatures in the entire universe, yet everyone (or at least everyone who Ace knew) despised them with a passion. Ace didn't even consider them to be human, not after having witnessed firsthand what they do with their slaves to 'help pass the time.' Thankfully, he himself hadn't been on the receiving hand of such actions for a while.

The guard pushed Ace forward to get him to start climbing the stairs. Ace resisted the urge to glare at him. It wouldn't do any good now. He observed carefully as the walls changed from cracked bricks to wooden planks and then finally to smooth stone covered with woven tapestries. They were upstairs now, and a glance out a nearby window told him that they were at least 3 stories up.

They rounded the corner and walked through a wide-open door. The room inside was very spacious. The walls were covered in paintings, and the floor with a patterned carpet. A crystal chandelier hung low from the ceiling. Ace fleetingly wondered how much something like that would be worth. Probably enough to feed his whole village for at least a year.

There were two men inside, standing on either side of a heavy oak desk. One of the man he recognized as Marshall D Teach, the person who'd captured and enslaved him. He had no idea who the other man was, though. Blond hair, piercing blue eyes-

-that turned his way the moment his own eyes fell on the man. He looked Ace up and down, then turned back to Teach and nodded.

"If that is all, then I shall send by one of my men with the money later today." His voice was as smooth as silk- not that Ace had any idea how smooth silk was. It was just a saying he'd picked up a while ago. Teach grinned, displaying a mouth full of missing teeth.

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Master Phoenix." Teach's voice was a complete opposite, rough and with a dark undertone. Ace could have sworn that he saw a corner of the other man's mouth turn down.

"As it is with you, Master Marshall." The blond turned to face the guard. "Take him down to my carriages. Tell my slaves that he is to be transported to my residence at once." The guard nodded and pulled on the chains, causing Ace to stumble forward. Damn, did his legs hurt after all that running around. This time, he actually did glare at the guard, but bit his tongue before he said anything he would regret later. After all, he still didn't know anything about his new master and what could set him off.

Though for some reason, he got the feeling that the blond didn't like Teach. Not that that was hard to achieve. Teach was very… specific. And not in a good way. Ace was more than certain that he had quite a few enemies, though he doubted that anyone would outright oppose him. That was just too dangerous- as a noble, Teach had a lot of power. And from what Ace had heard, he was pretty high up on the food chain, too. In conclusion, not a person you wanted to defy.

Ace shot a last glance at his new master and allowed himself to be led out into the hall.

* * *

Marco put down the pen and rubbed his temples. This paperwork was really getting out of hand. He should probably just listen to his father and hire a secretary or two. At least that would give him some time to do other things.

Speaking of other things…

Marco put away his glasses and stood up. He walked to the window and looked out. His slaves were at work out in the fields. Marco's eyes darted from one face to another until they found the man he'd recently bought.

Portgas D Ace.

He looked far better than when Marco had first seen him- the accumulation of dirt had been washed away after the first bath he'd taken, and his injuries had been tended to. Marco has also personally ordered his chefs to give Ace slightly more nutritious food than the other slaves, seeing as when he'd first laid eyes on him, Ace's bones had been protruding from beneath his skin. Marco had also made sure that Ace had been given a new set of clothes. He looked like a completely different person now.

A far more attractive person, oddly enough.

Marco watched as Ace wiped some sweat off his forehead, before reaching down to pull off his shirt. Marco's eyes wandered down to Ace's stomach and over his chiseled abs. He was very muscular, more so than Marco had thought he'd be. Being a slave of Teach's didn't guarantee much time to work out- more to be beaten by bored guards, or even the Master of the House himself. Marco's lips curled in disgust when he remembered the first close-up look he'd gotten of Ace- the shredded clothes, bruises and lacerations and grime, and he'd been visibly suffering from malnutrition. Marco would never allow someone to be treated in such a way, even if they _were _a slave. Sure, sometimes they had to be punished, but they all got enough food to survive, and when their clothes got torn too much, they got new sets.

Marco ducked when Ace turned to look up at his window, as if aware that he was being watched. Marco shut his eyes and hit himself in the forehead. Why was he giving so much thought to a mere slave? He should be preoccupying himself with other, more important things.

Like that paperwork sitting on his desk, just waiting for him to go back and finish it up.

Marco sighed and stood up. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Ace scowled as he walked through another long hallway. He'd just been told that he was going to have to clean the Master's chambers for the next few days, because apparently, the slave who cleaned them regularly had gotten ill. Ace had been requested specifically, and he had no idea why. He hadn't caught even a small glimpse of the Master since the day he'd been bought.

Life was far better here than it was at Teach's. He got food and was allowed to bathe regularly, which was weird after such a long time to be honest. He didn't walk around all chained up or anything, but he was still often worked to the bone. Not that that was anything new- he was a slave, after all. They were all constantly watched to make sure that they didn't slack off. So far, Ace had done his best so as not to attract the guards' attention to himself, because that would make his eventual escape harder. Eventual, because there was still something he needed to do before he could make a run for it.

He didn't know why the Master had decided to specifically request _him _to clean his chambers, when he could've gotten any other slave. Honestly, Ace didn't _want _to know. The one good side of this was that housework was less tiresome than work in the fields. He stopped before a large closed door. He shot one last glance at the guards stationed at the end of the hallway, before raising his hand to knock against the wooden object.

"Enter," came a voice from inside the room. Ace put his hand on the doorknob and turned it down, pushing the door open. The Master (oh, how Ace _hated _calling someone by that title!) was sitting at his desk, back turned towards Ace. Ace stood there, not really knowing what to do. Although, killing the man right now wouldn't be such a bad idea… As if reading his thoughts, the Master turned towards him.

"The cleaning items are in a closet down the hall. Go get them. When you get back, you can start with my bedroom." The Master gestured toward another door. Ace turned and went back the way he'd come from, not uttering a single word. He found the closet without any complications and got what he needed, before returning to the Master's chambers. A plaque on the door, which he hadn't seen before, caught his eye.

Marco Phoenix.

Well, at least he knew his master's name now. Without any further ado, Ace re-entered the room. _Marco_ still hadn't moved from where he'd been sitting. His cerulean sleeves swung back and forth with each minute movement of his hand. Ace allowed himself a second to watch as the pen Marco was holding gracefully glided over the paper, before moving to go do what he'd been told.

He let the work take up all of his attention. He swept, mopped, and dusted every visible surface. Not once did he come across a knife, nor any other sharp object. _Marco _must've made sure that no such things would be laying around in the open.

It was only when he was sweeping up in the office that Marco spoke to him.

"Where are you from, originally?" Ace's gray eyes darted up to meet Marco's blue ones.

Blue. Such an rare color to come across in these parts. There was only ever one other person he'd known who had that eye color, and he had long since died. Marco inquisitively tilted his head to the side when Ace didn't answer. Ace for the most part ignored him and went back to work. He wasn't here to chat; he had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

"I doubt that you'd been born into slavery. That would be hard to believe, seeing as your personality is far different from any other slave's I've ever known. You had to have come from some other land, surely?" Marco continued. Ace still stayed silent, confusion mixing with anger. Confusion, because why did this man want to know? What did he _care_ about where Ace was from. It was none of his damn business!

Anger, for the reason that it was because of men like Marco- nobility- that he'd been taken from his home, from his family, and forced to work first at Teach's, then here and was treated as a lesser being. When his father had first told him about this so-called "mission", Ace had been certain that it wouldn't take this much time, nor did he expect the terrible treatment slaves were subjected to. He should have given it a second thought before volunteering.

"You should answer when I speak to you." The fury that had been bubbling in Ace's chest suddenly rose to the surface. Not thinking of the consequences his actions could bring, Ace threw the broom to the side. It hit the wall, chipping the paint and leaving a small dent. He turned to glare at the man he was forced to refer to by the title of "Master".

"Yeah, well, I don't give a damn!" he snarled. Marco's eyes first widened in surprise at his outburst, then narrowed in anger. But Ace didn't care, not anymore. All the emotions he'd kept bottled up inside ever since his capture suddenly burst forth. He dropped his arms to his sides and clenched his fists around the cloth of his pants. "You think that you're allowed to do anything just because you were born as nobility! But you know what? You're still human! You're no better than anyone else. What do you think gives you the right to order me around?! You're just a spoiled brat who is used to getting what he wants and lives the perfect life here-" Marco was before him before he could utter another word, looking down at him with a glare so cold, so void of any emotion other than anger that it made Ace freeze in his tirade.

"Never, for one second, presume that you know me, _Ace_. Never." Marco's voice was quiet and unnervingly calm. Ace fell silent. The anger that had previously consumed his whole being melted into fear. Because, despite being a noble, right now Marco looked far more fierce than any man Ace had ever seen before. He didn't look barbaric- no, far from it, but the way he held himself screamed danger. His movement towards Ace had caused his toga to swish from side to side in a flurry of blues; Marco's hands were down and unclenched, but Ace could see them tremble slightly with not-so-hidden fury. Ace's eyes rose to Marco's face, but fell back to his chest a second later. Marco was still glaring at him intensely, and his mouth was set into a firm scowl. Ace unconsciously shuffled back.

Fear held his heart in a vice-like grip, refusing to let go. Because this man- Marco- had power over him like no other. No matter how much Ace wanted to deny it, Marco was his master. He could do whatever he wanted with Ace, and no one would stop him, because Ace _belonged _to him. He was merely a possession, one that could be disposed of without a second thought.

That was what terrified Ace the most- he didn't want to die! He needed to live- he'd promised Luffy that nothing would happen to him. His heartbeat accelerated when Marco moved again, but thankfully, this time it was away from him. Ace looked down at his hands. They were shaking, and wet with cold sweat.

When had he become such a coward?

"Finish your work and go back to the fields." Ace looked up at Marco when he spoke, but the Master had turned away and was looking out the window and at the vast expanse of land that lay beyond. "I expect you to be back here tomorrow."

Ace stayed still for a few more moments, before going to fetch the broom. He picked it up and started sweeping again, but soon found that he was unable to concentrate on the task at hand. A few minutes passed with him staring at the floor, before he sighed, and once again turning to look at Marco, who hadn't moved an inch from his place in front of the window.

"Foosha Village," Ace whispered. He didn't know why he answered the man's question- he just did. He really _had_ spent too much time away from home.

"Pardon?" Ace took a shaky breath.

"I'm from Foosha Village." Marco moved his head to the side to look at Ace as he spoke. Ace could have sworn that he saw a spark of curiosity in his eyes, before it vanished and they once again became emotionless. Having answered Marco's question, Ace felt some of the restlessness he'd been feeling leave him, and he went back to work.

"You know, others would have punished you for such a show of outright defiance." Oh, did Ace know. It had happened on more than one occasion at Teach's, and it was nowhere _near _pleasant. He used to be far, far from docile before, as the son of the village chief, who, coincidentally, happened to be the leader of a group of rebels. He'd never submitted to anyone, and it got him into a lot of trouble over the years, the most recent being getting captured and enslaved (granted, he'd purposely allowed them to take him), and he found that he was no longer able to do as he wished if he wanted to survive. It had changed him, and Ace didn't like that change.

"I probably should as well, if only to set an example. However, I do not think that will be necessary, will it?" Marco cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow. Ace shook his head, but remained silent, not taking his eyes off Marco for a second.

"You are allowed to speak, you know."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Ace whispered. Marco blinked, and the second eyebrow moved up his forehead to join the first. Ace mentally slapped himself for that retort. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut _for once_? He almost sighed in relief when Marco's lips curled upwards in some semblance of a smile. It would seem the man had gotten over his previous anger., thankfully.

"Alright. Then how about I speak and you listen for now, and when I finish, you'll tell me a bit more about yourself?" Ace furrowed his eyebrows at this unexpected turn of events. Taking his silence as a sign of agreement, Marco began talking.

"I was born into the royal family 26 years ago, on the eve of the fifth of October. I had a very happy childhood- I got everything I ever wanted." Ace wanted to point out that that wasn't all that different from now, but bit his tongue to keep silent. "When I was 12, my mother was killed by rebels while we were sitting in the garden in the morning."Ace frowned. The rebels never attacked during the day, nor did they kill innocent people, especially women and children. Those must've been the impersonators his father had been talking about. Ace listened carefully to what Marco had to say.

"It was very unexpected, so the guards didn't react in time. My life was spared. After this incident, I learned how to fight, with swords as well as using hand-to-hand combat." Ace was sure that Marco was saying this as some kind of warning to him. Not that he'd really wanted to kill Marco: maybe just threaten him to let him go.

"I spent the last few years trying to find out who exactly had killed her, but I haven't gotten anywhere as of yet." Ace had half a mind to tell Marco that it hadn't been the rebels, but deemed it in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. Better to let the man believe what wants to, rather than end up dead for disagreeing with him. "That's my story, what's yours?" Ace blinked in surprise and stared at Marco warily, as if trying to decide what he could tell, and what to skip, but eventually spoke.

"I'm 19, I hav- had two brothers, and I was caught by Tea- Master Marshall's men about half a year ago-" Ace suddenly broke off. This man did not need to know how exactly he had gotten into his current situation. Oddly enough, Marco didn't pry. Ace didn't say anything else after that, so Marco excused himself and went back to filling out paperwork.

They spent the rest of the day in silence.

* * *

Over the following week, the once tense atmosphere seemed to slowly dissipate. Marco started allowing Ace short breaks every once in a while, which they spent talking, although Ace rarely said anything unless he was addressed directly. He also came to the conclusion that Marco was lonely. He spent most of his days locked up in his chambers, not doing anything other than sitting at his desk and writing- at least, not that Ace had noticed. It seemed that Ace was the only company he got over the course of the day. Unfortunately, cleaning didn't really take up that much time, so once Ace was finished, he was sent right back to the fields to work with the other slaves.

To Ace's surprise, after the first four or so days, he actually started looking forward to going up to Marco's chambers. He didn't know why- he had no reason to like Marco, and deep inside, he still held a healthy dose of fear for him, but spending time with him and having those short conversations of theirs was far better than quietly toiling away in the fields. Besides, the more time he spent with him, the more he found out about the country and the royal family- all information he could relay to his father when he finally got back. They were planning to start a rebellion, but that would all happen in due time. Right now, Ace had to find out more about the group of people claiming to be them- claiming to be rebels.

He'd known that he wouldn't be able to find out too much- after all, he was only a temporary replacement for the slave who usually took care of the cleaning and you just don't acquire that kind of information by working in the fields- but he'd come to the conclusion that whatever information he would be able to find might help.

Still, he supposed, it would be much easier to run away from the fields than from the mansion, wouldn't it? He just had to figure out where the guards were posted, so that they wouldn't trip any alarms, find out where exactly he was at, and maybe get his hands on a map, despite the fact that all his previous efforts to find one had proven to be fruitless thus far. Ace knew that he couldn't be all that far from the capital, so it would only take a bit of blending in with the civilians once he'd escaped and some eavesdropping to find out more about what was going on in the capital.

Eventually, the week passed, and Ace was once more put to work in the fields. Today, they were just going to weed the crops. It didn't seem like much work, but Ace doubted that bending over for so long did good things to a person's back. Still, he had no choice but to work, and work he did.

He didn't know how long they'd been at it, but when Ace looked up the sun was high up in the sky, so he figured it must've been a couple of hours. He lifted the bottom up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, sighing in pleasure as his skin was caressed by the cool wind. He raised his arms up to stretch, wincing as his bones cracked. The sound of shouting caught his attention.

Hesitantly, Ace turned in the direction the noise was coming from. Not far from him, on the rough, dry earth lay a girl. She was surrounded by guards standing over her, demanding that she get up and get back to work. Ace watched as she coiled up in pain as one of the guards delivered a well-aimed kick to her ribs. Ace knew that he shouldn't attract attention to himself. He shouldn't react. He should just go back to work and pretend that nothing was happening.

Oh, fuck it. Waiting in the shadows had never been his strong side, anyway.

Within a split second, he had delivered a punch to one of the guard's face and was standing over the girl protectively.

"Can't you see that she's too exhausted to work? Let her take a short break!" His demands went unheard when the previously stunned men reacted by lunging at him and tackling him to the ground. Ace did nothing to react as they beat him into submission. He let his eyes wander to the trembling form of the girl, who was looking at him with wide eyes. He managed a small pained smile in her direction, before he was forced to his feet and shoved in the direction of the small elevated platform not far from where they currently were.

At least they'd left the girl alone, even if it was only for a short while. She was safe for now.

* * *

Marco's attention was attracted by the sound of shouts. Curious, he got up from his desk and went over to the window to maybe get a glimpse of what all the commotion was about. He saw a collapsed girl surrounded by guards. Curiosity having been sated, he was about to go back to his desk, when he noticed Ace begin to walk over to the group.

Ace. Marco had to admit he was a tad bit fascinated by him. Ace was far different from any of the slaves he owned. Granted, they had gotten off on the wrong foot, but Ace was still the most interesting slave he'd come across. He was the only one who didn't flinch in fear at every move Marco made, and after spending the bigger part of six or so days with him, he and Marco had even managed to hold a short conversation, one that wasn't one-sided. It was… refreshing, for lack of a better word. For the first time in a long time, Marco had had interesting company instead of the whimpering, snivelling mess his regular cleaning slave was. Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end, and Marco had sent Ace back to the fields once the other slave had gotten healthy enough to return to work.

Turning around to look at the said man, who was silently wiping the dust off his bookshelves, Marco stifled a groan. Ace being here had alleviated some of the boredom he'd been feeling- now that he was gone, Marco was once again plagued by it. He knew that he shouldn't be so fascinated by a mere slave, yet he couldn't help it. Ace was different, and it intrigued Marco.

Marco looked out the window once again just in time to see Ace deliver a punch to one of the guard's faces. Marco's eyebrows rose higher on his forehead. That was a very bold move, one which even he hadn't expected. He hadn't seen Ace physically lash out even once, so he was fairly surprised at his actions. He watched curiously as Ace stood over the girl.

Marco didn't understand why he'd want to protect her. Did he know her? Marco had heard that Ace was far from sociable, so it was very unlikely. He watched as the guards tackled and beat Ace, before proceeding to drag him over to the whipping platform, their attention momentarily turned away from the girl, who had yet to get up. Ace's shirt was ripped from his chest and he was bound to the whipping pole. Marco observed as the first lash fell on his back, already scarred from what he presumed had been punishments administered to him at Teach's.

Ace didn't make a sound. Marco didn't once turn his gaze away, watching Ace with a slight admiration. Thirty lashes and a bloodied and unbelievably torn back later and Ace had yet to make a sound. He was slumping forward from exhaustion and pain, but Marco was too far away to be able to see his facial expressions. The guards finally unchained him, and he fell forward. One of the men motioned for a few slaves to come and pick him up, and presumably take him to the infirmary.

Marco turned his gaze upon the girl whom Ace had protected. She was struggling to get up- her legs seemed to be giving out beneath her. She hadn't once stopped looking at Ace, and light reflected off the tears that stained her face.

Marco turned away then, glanced at the slave in his chambers, and left in flurry of blue. As soon as he could work again, Ace would once more be keeping him company. He was too interesting to allow to waste away working in the fields.

* * *

Ace grimaced as he got out of his bed- which was really just a worn bag stuffed with straw- and aggravated his injuries. He'd been lying around for three days, and although the wounds on his back were nowhere _near_ healed, Ace knew that he wouldn't be allowed to rest any longer. The bandages were so constricting that it was hard to breathe, and he had to be careful so as not to stretch the skin on his back too much.

On the bright side of things, the girl that had collapsed was fine. The guards had let her be after they'd had their "fun" with Ace. She had come to the infirmary to see him later, during her lunch break. It had been very uncomfortable for Ace to see someone crying in front of him, but he hadn't said anything. The girl had cared for him- brought him food and water, all the while never stopping thanking him. That had happened days ago, though, and he hadn't seen her since. Ace guessed that she was probably too busy with work to have time to do anything else.

His attention was brought back to the present when he heard footsteps. He looked up. A boy, probably no older than 12 was headed in his direction. Ace noted that he was carrying food. The boy stopped in front of Ace and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Are you the guy who saved my sister?" he asked quietly. Ace nodded hesitantly. Awe, accompanied by an iota of fear, made itself visible in the boy's expression. He looked down at his feet and raised his hands to give Ace his food. "You're supposed to go up to the Master's chambers today." Ace took the offered food- some bread, a glass of milk and a fruit- and watched the boy as he ran back to the kitchens. Ace tilted his head in confusion. He had no idea why Marco would need him upstairs again.

He decided that he didn't care, and proceeded to dig into his breakfast.

* * *

Ace looked up when Marco put down the bundle of clothes he was carrying. He blinked in surprise, before turning his head to look up at Marco.

"And these are…?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"These are the clothes you shall be wearing today. My family is coming to visit, and I would hate for you to be underdressed."

"Why? It's not like I'm anyone important." The corner of Marco's lips rose up in a smirk.

"On the contrary. You are important. Don't tell me that you've already forgotten about the gladiator fight you won not too long ago?" Ace pursed his lips.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're a prized fighter now, not just some random slave. You have to present yourself." Ace grimaced but reached out to take the clothes. He watched as Marco walked out of the room, not once taking his eyes off his back. He unravelled the bundle. A pair of sandals fell out, and the light blue cloth revealed itself to be a tunic. Ace quickly took off the one he was wearing and replaced it with the new tunic. If Ace had to guess, he'd say that it was made out of cotton. The material was far lighter and less rough than that of his woolen tunic. It was probably also less durable and warm though.

Ace sat down on the floor and replaced his sandals. They fit comfortably, not scraping against his skin as the old pair had been prone to do. Ace stood back up and tried walking around. The sandals seemed to be just the right fit. If they had been given to him by anyone else, Ace might've been touched that that person had gone out of his way to actually give him a set of clothes that fit. Still, it had been Marco who'd given him his clothes, and Ace was never, not in a million years, going to be grateful to _him_. Never.

He picked up his old clothes and walked out of the room. Marco was, as per usual, seated in front of his desk, pen in hand. He turned around at the sound of Ace's footsteps. He looked Ace up and down. Ace did his best not to move a single muscle.

"You look much better now." Marco had also changed. His own tunic was light blue, just like Ace's, and seemed to be made of a material Ace had recently come to know as silk. His toga- white and embroidered with beautiful blue birds- was made out of the same material.

Ace had half a mind to ask what was up with all of the blue, but bit his tongue to keep silent. He swore that he was doing that more and more often these days.

"Leave your old clothes here. I'll arrange for someone to take care of them. You, meanwhile, will be helping out by bringing in food from the kitchens and waiting for my family to finish eating before taking the dishes away." Marco stood up and walked out of the room. Ace followed him, not entirely sure where they were going. He hadn't seen much of the residence in the short amount of time he'd been here, seeing as the only place he'd ever gone was to Marco's chambers. The rest of the humongous villa was one big unknown. Marco led Ace through hallway after hallway. Ace was certain that they'd gone through the whole house twice before they finally stopped.

"These are the kitchens. Go in, and they will tell you what you need to do." That said, Marco walked away, leaving Ace alone. Ace's eyes once again followed his retreating figure, before he finally raised his hand and opened the door.

* * *

"Marco, buddy! I haven't seen you in so long! How have you been?" Thatch asked, throwing his arms around Marco. Marco easily returned the hug, smiling. They hadn't seen each other since the games at the Colosseum. Thatch squeezed him tighter, only to freeze up and slowly let go of him when someone behind him cleared their throat. Marco looked past Thatch to see Izo.

While Thatch was wearing a tunic and a toga, as was the custom in this country, Izo was adorned in a pale pink kimono embroidered with a floral design. Although it may have seemed odd to other people, Marco and Thatch were used to it. Izo's mother had come from a distant land, and had been married into the royal family. He had grown up surrounded by two cultures, and eventually decided that he preferred his mother's. Because of the way he dressed, however, Izo was often mistaken for a woman.

Marco remembered the last time that had happened. It hadn't been fun. When the man who had been hitting on Izo had realized that he was, in fact, a man, he hadn't been too kind with his words. Izo, not being one to ignore insults, had attacked the man. Luckily, the fight had been put to an end before anyone could be _killed_, but the man had still ended up in the hospital. Izo, meanwhile, hadn't suffered any injuries.

"I've been fine, Thatch, Izo. How about the two of you?" Marco asked. It was Izo's turn to hug Marco. Marco subconsciously noted that he was using the perfume he'd given him for his birthday- the ones that smelled like cherry blossoms. It was a pleasant smell, and Marco had to admit that he preferred it over the previous one.

"Oh, we've been great! If you don't count the fact that Thatch ruined my favorite kimono last week, that is," Izo said, turning to glare at Thatch and letting go of Marco.

"Izooo," Thatch whined. "I told you, it was an accident! Can't you just forgive and forget?" he begged. Izo smiled sweetly, painted lips stretching across his face.

"Never, honey. Never." Marco chuckled, before motioning for them to follow him. They slowly made their way through the long hall and into the living room. A thick colorful carpet covered the floor. In the middle of the room, two large sofas stood on either side of a glass table. There were plants everywhere- ferns hanging from the ceiling, miniature palm trees (which were still quite large) in every corner of the room, and various small potted plants had been placed along the walls. All in all it looked somewhat like a garden, especially with all the light the large windows were letting in.

Marco took a seat on one of the sofas, while Thatch and Izo sat down on the other, across from him.

"I've never really understood how you're able to keep these plants in such great condition, Marco. It must be a lot of work for your slaves, having to maintain all of this," Izo mused. Marco smiled.

"Actually, I do all of this myself." Both Thatch and Izo turned to gape at him in surprise.

"Well I'll be damned…" Thatch whispered. Izo jabbed sharply jabbed him in the ribs.

"Language," he hissed. Marco laughed.

"It's alright, we're family. We don't have to keep up appearances here."

"But that doesn't mean he," Izo pointed a finger at Thatch, " is allowed to express himself like a peasant.

"Hey! At least I'm not the one who always-"

"Children, children. Let's calm ourselves, shall we?" Marco interjected. "I have to say, I'm curious. What brings you to my humble abode at this time of year?" he asked. Thatch quietly muttered about how there was nothing "humble" about Marco's residence, but both he and Izo chose to ignore him.

"Do we need a reason to visit our brother?" Izo asked innocently. Marco merely raised an eyebrow.

"You do when I know for a fact that the two of you are busy planning your wedding." Marco watched in amusement as both Thatch and Izo flushed.

"Alright, you win," Thatch sighed. "We're here because we've heard some disturbing news. Apparently, the rebels attacked someone again."

"Again?" Marco asked, shocked. "This is getting out of hand. Who did they kill this time?" he inquired. Thatch shook his head.

"Jewelry Bonney. It happened yesterday, sometime after noon. She'd gone shopping with some friends, without any guards. They went their separate ways at one point and were supposed to meet up for a cup of coffee at a local restaurant, but when she didn't show up, her friends went looking for her. When they found her, she was already dead."

"How do they know it was the rebels?" Marco asked.

"Apparently there were hoof prints everywhere, and everyone knows that the rebels have horses. I guess that's not one hundred percent confirmation, but I think it's enough. The only thing that's weird about this is that they didn't take her money, but, then again, maybe they were in a hurry," Thatch mused. Marco furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't comment further. Thatch was probably right. It must've been the rebels. Who else would be brave enough- or stupid, depending on how you looked at it- to kill nobles. It a sure death sentence.

The door leading to the kitchens opened. Ace walked in, bringing with him a silver plate and a bowl, both of which were filled with food. The tray contained meat- lamb, if Marco's sense of smell wasn't mistaken; and the bowl was filled to the brim with rice and finely chopped vegetables. Marco watched as Ace bent down to place the food on the table, the whole time keeping his eyes off both Marco and his guests. Marco didn't fail to notice how he winced when he bent too low. His back was probably still hurting. As much as Marco didn't like having his slaves punished, it was crucial when they didn't behave as they should have. If they didn't face any consequences, there would be no order- they wouldn't respect their master. Without respect (and a healthy dose of fear), Marco would no doubt be facing a rebellion, and he really didn't want that to happen.

Marco followed Ace's retreating form with his eyes, not paying any attention to the slave that was laying out the plates and utensils, nor to the one who was standing beside her, holding a bottle of one of Marco's finest wines and three glasses.

When Ace finally disappeared behind the door, followed by the other slaves, Marco turned his gaze back to Thatch and Izo. Izo was looking at him with raised eyebrows, lips slightly parted as though he was about to speak.

"Yes, Izo?" Marco asked tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Who was the slave you were looking at, dear brother?" Marco searched Izo's face for any sign of emotion, but other than slightly downcast lips, he failed to notice anything. Izo's poker face was almost as good as his own.

"He's the gladiator who won at the fights," Marco replied easily. Izo's eyebrows rose even higher on his forehead.

"You know, now that I've seen him up close, he's really good looking, isn't he?" When Thatch made to protest, Izo raised his hand in a placating gesture. "Honey, the fact that you and I are in a relationship does not mean that I'm not allowed to point out beauty wherever I see it, be it in art or in other human beings." Thatch deflated visibly but didn't comment. Izo turned back to face Marco. "So?" he insisted. Marco shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess so…?" Marco hesitantly agreed, not liking where this conversation was going. Izo sighed in exasperation.

"Are you attracted to him?" he demanded. Marco blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"What?" he asked, not being able to form a coherent sentence with his mind as muddled as it currently was. "No! No." Marco groaned. When Izo raised an inquiring eyebrow, he groaned,"It's just that I can't seem to figure him out."

"_You_ can't figure someone out?" Thatch asked in disbelief. "_You_, of all people? _Marco Phoenix can't figure out a mere slave?"_ Marco glared dully at his brother but didn't opt to reply. Izo, meanwhile, seemed to have snapped out of his own semi-shocked state.

"Is that so…" he whispered, looking at Marco inquisitively. "How about we start from the beginning?"

* * *

The moon was high up in the sky by the time Marco's guests left. He'd spent all day walking there and back, serving food, bringing drinks, and then- finally!- cleaning up. It had been exhausting, and his back hurt like hell. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to retire just yet. The slave that was in charge of the kitchens had told him that he was to go to the Master's quarters .

He was on his way there right now. As he was passing a large mirror that hung on the wall, Ace caught a glimpse of red staining the back of his tunic.

Well fuck. His back was bleeding again. He was going to have to make a quick stop at the infirmary before he went to sleep, and he'd have try to wash the stains out of the clothes tomorrow.

He found himself in Marco's rooms faster than he would've liked. The Master wasn't in his study, which, Ace had to admit, slightly surprised him. He'd gotten so used to seeing Marco sitting in front of his desk, that the sight of it empty unnerved him. Footsteps coming from Marco's bedroom caught his attention, so he turned on his heels in that direction. The door opened, and Marco came out. He had gotten rid of his toga and was only wearing his tunic. He spared Ace a quick glance and turned around.

"Follow me." Ace had to admit, he was slightly curious as to where they could be going. Marco led him down the hall that stretched from the study to his bedroom.

_Bedroom._

Ace really didn't like this. His muscles were more tense than they'd been in days, and he had half a mind to turn around and run back they way he came from. The got closer and closer to the room, but instead of turning to face the door to his bedroom, Marco turned to a door opposite to it, one that Ace hadn't noticed before in the dimly lit hallway despite the fact that he'd cleaned it more than once before.

"You shall be staying here henceforth. As my personal slave, you need to always be ready to attend to my needs, and the place you're currently staying at is too far away for you to be able to do that properly." Ace stared at him in shock and slight suspicion. He wanted to ask whether or not Marco was sure that Ace wouldn't try to kill him in his sleep, but thankfully managed to hold his tongue. His back wouldn't be able to stand any more injury.

Speaking of his back, he really didn't want to know what Marco would do to him when he found out that he'd dirtied his new clothes with blood. Hopefully, Ace could get the tunic clean quickly enough that Marco wouldn't notice the stains. He watched as Marco grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. He stepped aside to allow Ace in. After a few moments of hesitation, Ace walked into the small room, never once taking wary eyes off Marco.

The room was very small, but it was still bigger than his cell at Teach's, as well as the place he'd been staying at for the past few weeks. And it had a bed. _A real bed. _Ace hadn't slept in real bed since… actually, he had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been captured. In any case, the last time he'd slept in a real bed was back at home.

"I expect you to be up early."

* * *

It was nowhere _near_ Ace's first time seeing a man naked, but for some reason, this particular time he couldn't tear his eyes away from the body before him. Thank goodness Marco was facing the other way and couldn't see him staring.

Apparently one of his new duties was helping Marco bathe.

Ace would never have guessed that Marco's clothes hid such a well built body. Granted, he'd only seen his back so far, but there was no doubt in Ace's head that his chest was just as muscled. When Marco had told him that he trained often, Ace hadn't believed him, mostly because he only ever saw him filling out paperwork. Why he hadn't gotten someone else to do it for him yet was beyond Ace.

They were both in the baths in Marco's home, a place Ace hadn't previously known existed. The room was filled with steam, and there was a giant pool of hot water in the middle. Marco was, of course, naked, and submerged in the water down to the waist, and Ace was kneeling behind him. Next to him was a small basin full of soapy water and there was a washcloth and a bar of soap beside it.

Ace watched as Marco settled comfortably in the pool, before wetting his hands and lathering his hands with the soap. He hesitated for a second, before putting his hands on Marco's head and starting to work the lather into his hair. It came as no surprise he found that it was incredibly soft and silky. Ace let his fingers wander through the strands, getting as much soap in them as possible, and delicately massaging Marco's head. He was so absorbed in his work that he almost jumped when Marco sighed in pleasure.

When he deemed the hair to be soapy enough, he dipped his hands into the water next to Marco and brought some of it up to wash away the suds. He repeated his actions a few more times, then moved to grab the washcloth. He put it in the basin to get it soapy, then reached to slide it over Marco's muscled back. He was very thorough. Maybe a bit _too _thorough.

It was at times like this that he cursed being gay.

When Ace was done washing Marco's back, Marco turned around to face him. Ace's eyes never reached his face, opting to settle on his chest. And what a chest it was…

He just hoped that Marco would take his lowered gaze as a sign of submission instead of what it really was.

Ace tore his gaze away from Marco's abs (because _yes_, his eyes had wandered lower- how could they not have, when Marco had the body of a god) and got back to work. Ace was aware of Marco's gaze and how it was constantly on him, following every single one of his actions, so he did his best not to screw up. He was extra careful about what he looked at now, and did his best to focus only on his hands. After Marco's torso came his arms, and then his toned legs. _Very_ toned legs.

If it wouldn't have raised suspicion, Ace would have outright punched himself in the face by now. Preferably more than once.

"I think that's enough of that." Ace stood up and backed away a few steps as Marco stood up, showing off his body in all its glory. Ace fought not to keep his eyes from wandering down his chest again, because this time he was sure that they wouldn't stop at Marco's abs. "Get me a towel," Marco ordered.

Ace quickly turned around to pick said item up from the chair behind him. He didn't realize that Marco had walked up behind him until he felt his warm breath on the nape of his neck. Breath caught in his chest, Ace turned around to give him the towel he'd procured. He could have sworn that Marco had a glint of amusement in his eyes, but besides that, he did nothing to show that he'd caught Ace staring. "I would also appreciate it if you helped me dress." Ace was very, very thankful that the room was steamy, because he could blame is slight blush on the heat. He nodded his head and grabbed Marco's clothes.

This whole secret mission thing looked like it was going to be more complicated than he'd expected it to be.

* * *

They came back to find two large rolls of bandages, gauze, and a tube of ointment on the coffee table in Marco's office. Ace turned to look at Marco in question.

"I arranged to have some supplies brought for you, seeing as you're going to be busy over the next few days, and your bandages haven't been changed since the day before yesterday. We wouldn't want your wounds to get infected, would we?" Ace didn't say anything, but kept staring at Marco. What did he care if Ace's injuries got infected? He was a slave, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he was replaceable. Marco could just as easily let him suffer and die.

"Judging by the sorry state your clothes were in yesterday, you need the medical attention." Fuck, so he _had_ noticed. Thankfully, nothing more was said about the clothes. After a moment Marco nodded in the direction of the bandages, which Ace took as a sign for him to go get them.

"I- er… I'll be right back." Ace made his way to his room. It was so weird to say that. He actually had his own room now... He opened the door, and walked over to the bed, onto which he deposited the things he was carrying. He took off his tunic, which was sticking uncomfortably to his back, and started unwrapping his bandages.

Lifting his hands so high pulled at his wounds, but he decided to pay the slight pain no attention. Layer after layer (and there were quite a few, mind you- his back had been- and still was- a mess) the cloth came off. The gauze underneath was stuck to his injuries in a few places, and prying it away hurt, especially when the action tore away the scabs and his back started bleeding. _Again._

That was the moment when Ace realized the dilemma he was in: he needed to get rid of the old dressing, but he didn't have anything to wash it away with. He was about to walk out and ask Marco if he could go get some water, when he saw something glimmering in the sunlight from the corner of his eye. Curious, he walked up to it.

It was a basin full of warm water, with a washcloth thrown in. Marco really _had _thought of everything. Though Ace was still wary of the fact that he was being treated better than the other slaves. Somehow, the explanation that he was a gladiator didn't seem to be enough. So what if he'd won a fight? Half of the accomplishment could be assigned to Lady Luck. He'd been really lucky that he'd managed to avoid other fighters for as long as he did.

Ace shook his head to get his thought process back to where it was supposed to be- treating his injuries. He dipped two of his fingers into the water, only to find it lukewarm. Ace wet the cloth and reached backwards to start getting some of the old dressing off.

Warm fingers pried the cloth from his hands. Ace flinched away at the contact as though he'd been burned. He whisked around to find Marco standing behind him, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"I thought that you could use some help." Honestly? Yeah, he could. Continuously lifting his arms up was going to open a shitload more wounds. But why would Marco want to help him? Why not get another slave to do it instead? _Why was he being treated differently? _Ace bit his lip and looked at Marco suspiciously for a few seconds, but eventually relented and turned his back towards his Master. He fought not to flinch again when the wet washcloth ghosted delicately over his injuries.

"Thank you," Ace whispered. Marco merely hummed. Ace was unable to wrap his head around Marco. Everything about him was just so _confusing_. After a few minutes of silence, interrupted only by the swirling of the water in the bowl and Ace's soft hisses of pain whenever the water seeped into an open wound, Ace finally decided to voice his doubts.

"What makes me so special? I don't see you going around and helping any of your other slaves." He inquired, and, after thinking through what he said, adding a quiet, "Master." When Marco didn't answer, Ace turned his head in his direction, muscles tensing, because he wasn't sure of what Marco was going to do. After all, it wasn't a slave's place to question the actions of his master.

"I'm not too sure myself," Marco's voice had an almost melodic ring to it. "Maybe it's because you're different from the others. Your eyes haven't lost that shine yet- it's as though you still want to keep fighting despite the situation you're in." He couldn't be more right, but Ace wasn't going to tell him that. Never ever. Not in a million years.

"And that's it?" Ace prompted. It couldn't be, could it?

"You can say I find your character a bit… intriguing. And refreshing. It's nice to have someone to talk to who answers you because they're not afraid of what you think. Then again, if I were anyone else, I probably wouldn't allow such behavior. Although having someone who talks back is better than having to talk to yourself all day long."

To say that Ace was surprised would be an understatement. He'd never expected to hear such words from Marco. He was a slave. Slaves were supposed to work and be quiet. Maybe Ace's differences stemmed from the fact that he had been born free? After all, they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Ace looked to the side when he heard a slight splash. Marco had just dumped the washcloth into the water.

He walked over to the bed to get the other things and set them down carefully on the table next to the basin of water, careful not to get them dirty. Ace wondered if Marco even knew how to dress a wound, but then again, seeing as he apparently trained often, he'd probably seen his fair share of injuries over the years. Ace's eyes watered when the ointment was spread over he gashes on his back, bringing with it a slight sting, but he refused to let his discomfort show. Marco had already seen enough of that today.

After Marco washed his hands free of the remnants of the ointment, he placed the gauze over the gashes that covered the whole of Ace's back and grabbed one of the rolls of bandages to bind it in place. The sting had disappeared by now, and in its place settled a slight chill. Ace tensed as Marco's arms came around to his chest with every new layer of bandage, but after about 10 times, he managed to slacken his muscles. After the second roll of bandages was placed on top of the first one, Marco took a few steps back to admire his work.

"That looks much better," he decided. Ace turned around. It almost escaped his attention how Marco's eyes darted up and down his body once, but he managed to catch on as Marco's gaze was returning to his face. Was... Marco checking him out?

No…

Marco wasn't… was he? He couldn't be…

Ace got his answer when Marco flushed delicately.

Marco was gay. And Ace was willing to bet a ton of gold that he hadn't seen all that many naked (or even _half_-naked) men in his life.

* * *

Ace knew his life was complicated. Very complicated, in fact. He should have listened to his mother and never volunteered for this shit. It's not like he'd gotten any valuable information yet. He'd managed to memorize a map of the capital and had already come up with an escape plan, but there was no point in going back home if he didn't have any information. It would just be a waste of all his hard work and suffering.

He and Marco were out shopping, and he hated every single moment of it. They were out in some smaller town. Ace had no idea why. In his opinion, they could just as well shop in the capital, where there would be a higher chance of him hearing something important. He doubted that he'd come across anything like that here.

Ace was walking behind Marco, as a slave should. Marco glanced back at him every so often, probably to make sure that he didn't run off anywhere. Not that he would get far here- Marco had brought a few of his guards, and Ace seriously doubted that he'd be able to avoid them for long. He'd probably be caught again within the hour.

Marco stopped in front of a small shop with different fabrics. Ace didn't notice at first, so he walked into Marco's back by accident. He quickly jumped back and lowered his head, muttering a quick apology. The corners of Marco's lips twitched upwards in a slight semblance of a smile. He took a step forward and opened the door to the shop. A bell rang, and Ace saw a woman rush forward to meet Marco. He didn't know whether he should stay outside or go inside the little shop with Marco.

Thankfully, Marco right after greeting the woman Marco turned in his direction and gestured for him to come inside. The moment Ace too the first step inside, he was assaulted with the smell of fabric. He wrinkled his nose unconsciously. Marco had walked over to a shelf that had rolls of cotton fabric on it, and was examining each one of them carefully. Ace hesitantly approached him. Upon hearing his footsteps, Marco turned his head in his direction. His eyes darted from Ace to each of the different cloths, finally settling on a maize yellow one. He took it off the shelf and unrolled part of it, turning towards Ace once more.

"What do you think?" Marco asked. Ace looked at the fabric, eyebrows rising on higher on his forehead. He seriously doubted that Marco wanted an honest opinion.

"It's… pretty," he said uncertainly. Marco turned to the woman and asked her to cut a few feet of the fabric. When they were finished with that one, Marco started sifting through the different cloths.

Ace stood on place, not touching anything. The woman who owned the shop glared at him whenever Marco wasn't looking, but Ace didn't pay her any attention. What she thought about him didn't matter. After another 20 or so minutes, during which Marco had managed to pick out a few more fabrics, he and the woman started discussing the price. Ace's eyes widened in disbelief at the initial price the woman proposed. It was definitely much too high for whatever Marco was buying. Apparently, Marco seemed to agree, because he offered to pay half the amount. They started haggling, and finally settled on a price that Ace was sure was still too high, but Marco was willing to pay.

Marco dropped a few coins on the counter and took the bags that held the cloths. Ace automatically held out his hands to Marco to take the bags but was surprised when Marco only gave him half of them. When Ace shot him a questioning look, he sighed.

"Your back hasn't healed yet. You shouldn't carry too much." Now that almost made it seem as though Marco cared. Which, Ace ultimately decided, he probably did, no matter how little. He had already proved it on more than one occasion.

They left the shop, the bell ringing once again when Marco opened the door. Ace spared the woman one last glance, not at all surprised by the look of disdain she was giving him. He was, after all, a slave. It was often hard to distinguish slaves from the citizens, due to the fact that they were of the same race and often wore similar clothes. Ace guessed that it had been his behavior that had given him away.

He followed Marco though the streets. They paused in front of a few more shops but didn't go in. Ace had no idea what Marco was looking for.

They were suddenly approached by a group of tunics were torn and dirty, and they were ridiculously thin. They surrounded Marco and started pulling at his toga

"Please, mister. Do you have any change to spare?"

"We're hungry- we haven't eaten since yesterday."

At first, Ace though that Marco would push them away or keep walking and ignore them. It's what any other noble would have done. It's what was expected of Marco.

He really should have known better by now. Marco almost never did what Ace expected him to do. He kneeled down so that he could be face-to-face with the children. Ace watched in mild fascination as he reached into his purse and took out a few coins. He gave two to each child.

"Go and get yourselves something to eat," he said, smiling. The children's faces lit up, and one girl rushed forward and hugged Marco. Ace couldn't withhold a snort of amusement at the shocked expression on Marco's face. Marco glared at him dully, as if daring him to do it again. This only served to amuse Ace more. For the first time in months, he was grinning. The children ran off, all the while shouting thank yous. Marco stood up and brushed dust from his toga. Ace walked up to him, still smiling.

"Do you do things like this often?" he asked. In hindsight, he realized that he shouldn't have said anything. A slave should not speak until spoken to. Unfortunately for Ace, rules like this didn't seem to be able to stick in his head. Marco's eyes met his, uncertainty clear, whether it was because he was still slightly uncomfortable with the hug he'd been given a few seconds ago, or the fact that he wasn't sure what to say. Ace wanted to hit himself when he realized that it was probably the latter. Every slave Marco had ever had had been obedient and silent. It must be something new to have one who speaks up.

Something out of the ordinary.

Ace quickly stopped smiling and dropped his gaze to the ground. They were in public. He was supposed to behave as any other slave would. He was about to mutter a quick apology when Marco answered.

"Sometimes." Ace risked glancing upwards. Marco was smiling at him. "Come on. We have somewhere to be." Ace was very, very tempted to ask Marco why he had given those children money.

Why?

That question seemed to be on his mind a lot lately. Why was Marco so… different? It was completely messing with what Ace had always been told nobles were- selfish, greedy, and overall corrupt.

"You can ask, you know. I won't bite." Ace jumped, startled. Sometimes, it seemed as though Marco could read his thoughts- which Ace knew was impossible, but the thought was still unnerving.

He had to remind himself that if Marco could, in fact, read minds, then he would already know what Ace's true motives for being here are. He shook his head slightly from side to side to clear it of all the thoughts and get back to the topic at hand.

"I was just wondering why you gave those children money. Shouldn't something like that be beneath you?" Marco raised his eyebrows in surprise but smiled softly not even two seconds later.

"I guess most noblemen wouldn't have given those children a second thought, huh?" Ace nodded once. "The poor… they're still people. They just are not as fortunate. Me? I have a lot of money. Too much, I should say. I certainly have more than I need. These people need it more than I do." Ace stared at Marco for a while, then nodded again and returned his eyes to the ground at Marco's feet. Marco sighed and turned around. "Come along. There's something I want to see."

Once again, Marco led Ace through the streets. This time, though, Ace paid more attention to his surroundings. He noticed how beggars leaned against the wall of worn buildings, how everyone stared at them and refused to meet Marco's eyes. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen any more nobility here, which meant that this town was probably very far away from the capital on the outskirts of which Marco's house was located, and where most of the royalty lived.

They left the town square and turned down a small alleyway. It was dark here, dark and dirty. It gave Ace a bad feeling. If he had any fur, it would be standing on end. His gray eyes continuously darted around the small space, sparing a quick glance at Marco every few seconds. Marco didn't seem to be the slightest bit uneasy. Ace wasn't sure whether it was because he wasn't getting any bad vibes, or because he simply didn't care.

The latter would actually be kind of arrogant.

They finally came to a stop where a small staircase led down to another alley below. Marco turned toward Ace, who was still sweeping over the surroundings with an alert gaze.

"Someone I knew was murdered here not too long ago. Jewelry Bonney. She was killed by the rebels." Not for one second did Ace believe that it had been the rebels who had killed her. His father would never have allowed such a thing. Besides, it was far too dangerous for any rebels to come into a town, even one as insignificant as this. There was always the possibility of being spotted and found out. Jewelry Bonney must've been killed by the impersonators.

This was the first lead he'd gotten in months. Finally!

"I've been doing some investigating in my free time." Oh, now that was interesting. Ace wondered how he hadn't noticed before. He decided that it must've been because Marco was always so secretive. "I thought that maybe I would find something if I came here." So the whole shopping trip had been a cover-up. Ace watched as Marco knelt down next to what looked like bloodstains and put down the bags of fabric he was carrying.

He analyzed the bloodstains for a few seconds, before standing back up and turning around so that he was facing Ace again. He raised his hand and pointed his index finger forwards. "The attacker came from that direction. He got behind her and sliced her throat open with a knife," Marco deduced. Ace had to admit, he was impressed. He'd had no idea that Marco would be able to tell that much from a few partly washed away bloodstains.

They could use someone like that, the rebels.

Ace wanted to hit himself. Again. It seemed as though he was wanting to do that a lot these days. Besides, it's not as though a noble would be keen on joining the rebels, especially not Marco, who harbored a fierce hatred towards them, seeing as he thought that it had been them who'd killed his mother.

He shouldn't have allowed himself to be distracted so easily. When Ace blinked, he suddenly noticed a man standing behind Marco, knife raised high, the metal blade glinting in the limited amount of sunlight.

"Marco, behind you!" Ace shouted in what could only be described in blind fear. Within a split second, Marco had turned around and kicked his attacker's feet out from under him. Ace merely watched in amazement. He guessed that until this moment he hadn't really believed Marco when he'd told him that he knew how to fight. Marco lifted him leg up to slam it into the bandit's chest, but the bandit rolled away before he could take the hit.

He retaliated by trying to punch Marco in the jaw, but Marco grabbed hold of his fist and in a move too fast for Ace to see forced him to the ground again, not wasting another second before delivering a sharp kick to the bandit's solar plexus. He was left gasping for breath on the ground. Marco was just about to stomp down on his head so as to knock him unconscious (and probably crack his skull), when Ace noticed another person emerge from the shadows. The woman raised her arm to throw her own knife at Marco.

And Ace didn't think. He acted. Before he'd fully processed what was going on, he'd dropped the bags and lunged at Marco, knocking him to the ground. The knife grazed his side, and he felt warm blood start seeping from the wound, staining his tunic. Again. Damn it. He'd barely managed to wash it out the last time around, and now he was also left to deal with a cut. Unfortunately for him, the knife seemed to have also nicked an artery, because his vision was beginning to swim. Ace pushed himself off Marco, landing on his back on the side, only adding to the pain. Marco was up in seconds, moving to take down the woman. Ace's field of vision was getting smaller by the second, so he didn't register what exactly was going on. Next thing he knew, the air was filled with smoke and his eyesight was completely gone.

"Why didn't Master tell us that this one would put up a fight?!"

That was the last thing he heard, before he lost consciousness.

* * *

When Ace came to, he wished he hadn't. His side was stinging. He had pangs of pain in his back, probably from when he'd landed on the cobblestone ground of the alleyway. His head hurt. He was cold. He couldn't move a muscle.

Oh, and Marco was sitting in a chair by the side of the bed he was lying in, visibly fast asleep with his head leaning against the stone wall.

Ace blinked twice, wondering whether or not he was just seeing things. Blood loss tended to do funny things with your head. And he was pretty sure that he'd lost a lot of blood when that knife nicked him. But… what happened afterwards? He couldn't remember. Everything was fuzzy. His brain was a muddled mess.

Despite this, there are some things that he still knew. For one, this had been his...fourth near death experience? Or fifth? He'd kind of lost count somewhere along the way. He was really starting to wish he hadn't volunteered for this. Second, he'd seen the impersonators. They'd said something- mentioned a Master? That wasn't much to go on, but it was better than nothing- and he'd gotten nothing for the past few months.

He just needed a little more info, maybe to figure out who was pretending to be the rebels and giving them such a bad name, before he could return home. Return to his family. He missed Luffy, and all his smiles and naivety. He missed his mom and her warm embraces. And he missed- never in a million years had he thought that he'd say this- he missed his father and his stories and optimism. He wanted to be back with his family already.

But he couldn't. Not yet. He would do what he'd come here to do- collect information. Not only for Foosha Village's sake, but for the whole country's. Someone needed to do something to get rid of all of this corruption.

The sound of a yawn caught his attention. Ace tried to focus his gaze on Marco, who was stretching in an attempt to wake up fully. Funny how instead of Marco he kept seeing two…

Marco looked down at him, eyes widening at the surprise of seeing his wide awake. He quickly moved to right himself in the chair. His hair was a mess, and the toga he was wearing was red with what Ace was pretty sure was his blood.

Marco had saved him? That didn't make any sense… Then again, nothing about him made any sense.

"How are you feeling?" Marco's voice was laced with concern. He was peering down at Ace, clearly worried. Ace moved to sit up, flinching when the action pulled at the injury on his side. Marco moved to help him, once more surprising Ace, seeing as there wasn't supposed to be more physical contact between a slave and a master than was strictly necessary. Then again, Marco never had been a rule-abiding master.

"Better now, thank you," he ground out through gritted teeth. His torso was naked. Not paying any attention to the fact that Marco was right beside him, Ace pulled down the thick blanket he was covered in.

His whole torso turned out to be covered with bandages. Again. It seemed to have become his thing, lately- walking around covered in bandages. Luffy was right when he'd said that Ace had no self-preservation instincts. His constant injuries were proof of that.

Marco didn't seem to believe him. He brushed his hand over Ace's forehead as if to check for a fever. Ace wrinkled his nose as the smell of blood reached him, but other than that paid Marco no attention. He slipped a hand under the bandages that covered his newest injury and carefully swept a finger over the gauze. He counted four stitches. He removed his hand so that he could pull the blanket back up. He was still cold.

"What happened?" he asked. Only now did he realize how hoarse his voice was. Marco seemed to notice the same, because he reached over to the nightstand beside the bed and retrieved a cup of water, which he gave to Ace. Ace needed Marco's help in bringing the glass up to his lips, seeing as his hand was shaking so badly that he would have spilled everything. Oh, what a sight he would be then. If he had the strength, he would probably have blushed at the sight of Marco's hand enveloping his slightly smaller one. It was a weird feeling. Weird, but definitely not unwanted.

Ace drank greedily. Sip after sip of the refreshing water flowed down his sore throat, and Ace felt better almost instantly. He gave the glass back to Marco, who put it back on the nightstand. They stayed in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other.

"You saved my life, you know," Maro said. He did, didn't he?

"Judging by the stained clothes, I'm guessing that you saved mine as well." Marco looked down at his toga, as if only now noticing the bloodstains. Ace moved his hands to his lap. He held up one finger. At least… he thought it was one finger. He kept seeing three. No, wait. Now he was seeing two. "So what happened?" he asked casually.

"Well, what do you remember?"

"Smoke, I think." Ace said, tilting his head to the side as he usually tended to do when he was thinking. Marco sighed. Ace didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but Marco seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"They set off a smoke bomb and got away. There was no possibility of me going after them and letting you bleed out." The smile on Marco's face was a bit forced. "Not after you had just saved my life." Ace chuckled weakly.

"I tried figuring you out, you know. I still am. It's not working. I just don't get you." Ace raised his eyebrows when Marco full-on laughed.

"Worry not, the feeling is mutual," Marco said as his laughter subsided. "I am unable to figure you out as well." Ace blinked twice in confusion.

"Me? What's so complicated about me?" he asked, curious.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin."

* * *

It was roughly two months later that Marco asked Ace to spar with him. Ace's injuries had finally managed to heal, although his back wasn't a pretty sight- he knew, he'd seen it in a mirror. Ace had been hesitant at first, but when Marco had said that he needed the practice to brush up on some self-defense moves, Ace had relented. He could use the training, too.

Besides, it was his twentieth birthday today, which marked a whole year of being in slavery. That deserved a celebration, right?

Ace followed Marco down to the gardens. They walked down numerous paths leading through the shrubbery. Ace couldn't help but be amazed at all of the different flora here. Most of these plants he'd never seen before in his life. They eventually came to a stop in what looked to be the middle of the garden. There was a large square, maybe 100 square yards of dirt ground in the middle. After taking his first step onto it, Ace noted that it was very hard, as thought the dirt had been stomped into the ground by people constantly walking on it.

This had to be Marco's training area.

Ace watched as Marco made his way over to the other side of the field (could he call it that? probably not, but who cares) and took off his toga. Next to go was his tunic, leaving him only in braccae. It was Ace's first time seeing Marco wear anything to cover his legs. The people of this country weren't too fond of them, although they were a necessity in colder weather.

Ace had been given his own pair of braccae a few weeks ago. He'd decided to wear them today, because fighting in his tunic would be restricting, and he would look like an idiot walking around only in a loin cloth. Braccae were the safe way to go.

Apparently, Marco thought the same. He checked to see if his sandals were fastened while Ace shrugged out of his tunic. It was creamy yellow, made from the fabric Marco had bought that uneventful day they'd gone shopping. Ace folded it carefully and placed it on some nearby grass, just as Marco had done with his. After this, he walked over to what was probably his side of the field and looked at Marco, waiting for him to speak.

"I think we should start with a warm up, don't you?" Ace nodded his head silently. He imitated Marco's movements as he went through a couple of quick exercises that were meant to prepare their muscles for more physical exertion. Not that Ace really needed the warm up. He was so used to hard work that it didn't really make a difference for his body any more. When they finished, they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, courtesy of the burning sun located right over their heads.

"Would you like to have the first move?" Marco asked. Did he? It wouldn't hurt to try. He would have to get back into the rhythm of things after not having sparred with anyone for a year- the gladiator fight didn't count. Ace ran towards Marco, fist automatically positioning itself so as to hit him in the jaw. Marco saw this coming and reached out to grab Ace's wrist. He was going to do the same thing he'd done with the bandit.

Before Marco could so much as touch him, Ace had dropped to the ground and lashed out his leg in an attempt to kick Marco's feet from under him. This was in vain, however, because Marco, realizing what he was about to do, jumped in the air. Marco's hand landed on the back of his head and pushed him forward, causing him to stumble. Marco landed on the ground gracefully and waited for Ace to regain his balance.

Damn. It really had been too long since Ace had been in a proper fight. A year back he would have been able to dodge something like that easily, almost effortlessly, but now he was fighting worse than Luffy. He hated to admit it, but that slightly wounded his pride. Or, well, whatever remains of it he still had.

He tried to blame it all on the fact that Marco was unnaturally fast. Still nowhere near his father's level, though. At least, Ace didn't think so. Although it would be interesting to get those two to spar against each other in the future.

Ahh, but right- that could never happen.

This time it was Marco who lunged at him, bringing with him a flurry of punches that Ace had trouble dodging. Ace strategically turned so that the sun was behind him. When Marco faltered, temporarily blinded, Ace lashed out with his fist, aiming for the solar plexus. He was literally a millimeter from it when Marco caught his wrist. Ace barely had the time to catch his breath before he was pulled up and over Marco's back and slammed against the ground. When Marco tried to let go of his hand, Ace didn't let him. Deft fingers grabbed at Marco's wrist and pulled him forward. Caught by surprise, Marco fell down on top of Ace, who was quick to roll them over before Marco had even fully comprehended what had just happened.

"I win," Ace smirked, straddling him. Unfortunately for him, it didn't take Marco much effort to flip them over once again, so that he was back on top, pinning Ace's wrists over his head with one of his own hands.

"No, I think I win this round," Marco retaliated. Ac struggled to get out, but froze once he realized what position they had ended up in. His cheeks quickly turned a bright shade of red.

_Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea._

A few seconds later Marco also had an epiphany. He quickly let go of Ace, in a hurry to get off, cheeks also dusted pink.

"I- I think that's enough for today," he stuttered. He was about to reach out his hand to help Ace up, but obviously thought better of it. Ace ignored this and pushed himself up off the ground. He dusted off his braccae and stretched his muscles, avoiding Marco's gaze. His heart was beating furiously in his chest, and he was certain that that wasn't because of the physical effort. He was far from being out of breath. His heart should _not _have been racing like this.

Never again. He was never going to agree to something like this again. He should have known better in the first place. How could he have been so stupid?! He was supposed to-

...But if Marco ordered Ace to spar, he wouldn't really have a choice, would he? Damn it all to hell. Ace eventually looked up at Marco. He was very surprised to see that Marco was also avoiding his gaze. Ace had mixed feelings about this. Marco was usually very stoic, and Ace had only ever seen him show emotion on two (two? probably something around that…) occasions. Not that a small flush and avoiding someone's gaze was some large show of emotion, but it was enough. It was enough to be different from what Ace was used to. And that made him uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable indeed.

Ace lowered his own eyes to Marco's chest-

-and quickly dropped them to the ground. _Shit. _Looking at Marco's chest (and his abs) was doing nothing to help the sorry state he was in. He stood in place until Marco finally spoke.

"Go get dressed." Ace was surprised that he'd managed to keep the stuttering out of his voice. He knew that he wouldn't bet able to. He walked over to where he'd left his clothes and quickly put them on. Thankfully, they hadn't gotten dirty. When Ace looked back up, Marco was already dressed and looking at him. He expression on his face was almost… puzzled. But that wasn't right, Marco didn't get _puzzled_ of all things. Or confused or bewildered or perplexed or baffled or anything of the sort!

He was going to get a migraine because of all this thinking wasn't he? Internally, Ace groaned. Today was going to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

Ace crept up behind Marco and looked over his shoulder. Spread out on the desk before them were drawings of different people. Ace's eyebrows furrowed in confusion upon seeing them, but that confusion quickly turned into realization as he recognized a few of the faces.

The first was Marco's mother. He'd seen her on the family portraits all over the house, usually coupled with her smiling son. He also recognized Monkey D. Garp and Aokiji. The first he'd encountered personally. He hadn't been a bad man at heart, Ace was sure, but there was something very… off-putting about him. He couldn't quite place his finger on it. The second he had never met, but everyone knew who the king's brother was. Deceased, but a brother nevertheless. In fact, there were some pretty nasty rumors going around about who killed him. Rumors Ace was rather inclined to believe.

Marco looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled slightly.

"Interested?" he asked. Ace glanced at him, startled from his thoughts. His eyes widened when he realized that he'd been caught staring.

"I… I just…" he struggled to come up with an excuse. Marco chuckled under his breath.

"It's alright," he said, moving to the side and beckoning Ace closer with his hand. "Come here." Hesitantly, Ace did as he was told. Goose bumps appeared on his skin he accidentally brushed his bare arm against Marco's. Over his own erratically beating heart, he barely noticed Marco leaning closer to him. His brain kept telling him that Marco should not evoke such reactions- such feelings! Marco was his master, for the gods' sakes! There was no way Ace could have _feelings _for someone like that. That was impossible, especially with the current situation they were in- with Ace as a slave.

There was something wrong with him.

"Are these all the people who were killed by the rebels?" Ace asked, mentally applauding himself for not stuttering. Marco glanced at him with surprise.

"Yes, how did you know?" _Oh, shit._

"It was just a guess," he murmured. Marco seemed to accept that explanation and went back to looking at the drawings.

"This doesn't make any sense…" he muttered. Ace didn't say anything. It all made perfect sense to him. He just couldn't tell Marco what he knew, lest he had him killed. But this was good for Ace. He was getting more info than he'd thought he'd get during this mission. Sure, it did take over a year and all, but now he was getting a lot of info in a short amount of time. If it kept on going like this, he'd be back home within another month or two. Of course provided that he managed to escape. He'd already memorized a few maps that Marco had left laying around the estate, so he should have no trouble getting back, but there was always the threat of people coming after him looming over his head.

Still, the thought of seeing Luffy and his mom and even his dad was almost enough to make him smile. Almost.

Both Ace and Marco were startled from their thoughts by knock on the door.

"Master Marco? Master Thatch and Master Izo are here," said the slave behind the door. Marco groaned.

"Tell them that I'll be downstairs shortly." The slave had addressed Marco as Master. Ace hadn't done that in a while, now that he thought about it. In fact, he was pretty sure that he'd called Marco by his name once. Not that Marco had said anything then. Besides, it had been a life and death situation. No one could blame him for not thinking through what he'd said. Still, Marco should have at the very least told him off… That left Ace to wonder about why he didn't. Maybe he should try calling him by his name again, just to see his reaction.

He was stupid, wasn't he? But he'd made up his mind and was going to go through with it, even though he'd probably regret his actions a few seconds later.

"They're your brothers, aren't they, Marco?" Ace asked, slightly anxious about what Marco was going to say next. Marco just nodded absently, still staring at the drawings. Ace was about to sigh in relief when Marco turned his head sharply to the side to look at him.

Yep. He knew it. He was starting to regret what he'd said.

"Did you just…?" Marco shook his head. "Never mind, it's alright. Now that I think about it, I would prefer you just keep calling me by my name." Marco smiled at Ace. Okay… that was unexpected. What the hell was Marco thinking?

Never mind, he didn't want to know. Not that he had any chance of finding out, either way. Marco was too cryptic.

"Yes, Thatch and Izo are my adopted brothers," he explained, smiling. "They're getting married in two months." Ace wasn't sure what to make of this. It's not that he had anything against same-sex marriage (of course not, seeing as he was gay himself!) but he hadn't expected something like this in the royal family. The capital was proving to be all the more interesting day after day.

"Speaking of which," Marco spoke once more, "How about you come with me and meet them?" Ace looked at his in disbelief. Had Marco even thought about what he was saying. This was basically suggesting that Ace had a higher position than "slave" in this household. Of course, he couldn't really say no, could he? Why, oh why was everything getting so complicated in such a short amount of time?

"Of course," he replied quietly, still not sure if this was a good idea.

Marco led him out of the room. They walked downstairs into the big room that served as a living room and a dining room in one. Ace simply adored the plants that covered almost every visible surface of the room. There had been far fewer of them a few months ago. He'd also found out only recently that it was Marco, who took tended to the plants, which came as a slight shock. Whenever Marco had told him that he was going to be gone for an hour or two, which happened almost every day, Ace had always suspected that he had some other things to take care of.

He'd heard that Marco had gotten his so-called "green thumb" from his mother.

Thatch and Izo had already made themselves comfortable on the large sofa situated near the middle of the room, but they stood up when he and Marco walked in. One of them- Ace was still unsure which brother was which- practically threw himself at Marco.

"Oh my gosh I heard that you'd been attacked! Are you alright?" Marco returned the hug.

"I'm fine, Izo," he replied. Izo let go of him, and took a step back to glare at him. Thatch walked up to him and stood with his arms crossed. The expression he wore was one between worry and anger. Ace didn't understand why both of Marco's brothers were mad at him, but he didn't speak. He should probably be quiet here. After all, it wouldn't do for someone to find out that he wasn't the most obedient of slaves- he wouldn't want to do anything to harm Marco's reputation.

"In that case, pray tell why you didn't bother telling us yourself. Why did we have to find out from Oyaji?" Izo looked downright terrifying right now, standing in front of Marco with his hands on his hips. Ace was sure that if Marco was a lesser man, he'd be cowering in fear right now.

"I didn't think it was all that important. Besides, both Ace and I are fine now." For the first time, everyone in the room turned their eyes to him. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit. He'd never liked being the center of attention.

"'Now'? Then something did happen! I knew it!" Izo turned to Thatch. "I told you there was more to it." Thatch sighed.

"You did," he agreed, looking Ace over wearily.

"Care to tell us what exactly happened, Marco?" It was Marco's turn to sigh. Ace finally understood why Marco had groaned when he'd been told about Izo and Thatch's arrival. He'd probably known that they would start questioning him.

"We were shopping. We were attacked. Ace was injured saving my life. Now he's better. The end." Marco stated briefly. "But there's something else I'd like to talk to you about." Marco turned to Ace. "Could you please go back to my study and bring back the drawings and my notes?" Ace turned around swiftly and started walking back the way he'd come from.

* * *

While Marco wasn't exactly keen on being left alone with Thatch and Izo today of all days, he was even less keen on leaving Ace alone with them.

"That's Ace, huh?" Thatch asked. "It seems as though the two of you are... close." His expression was unreadable, but Marco was almost sure that there was some displeasure present in his gaze. He couldn't help the slightly accelerated beating of his heart.

"Ace and I? Of course not. I don't know where you got that absurd idea from. He's just a slave, nothing more," Marco replied. Alright, so he was lying, but they didn't need to know all the conflicting emotions he was dealing with right now- his heart was telling him that he might be the slightest bit infatuated with Ace, while his brain was telling him that it would never work, because a relationship between a master and his slave was always doomed to fail. Besides, he would have too much power over Ace, and it would feel as though he was using him. He didn't want that. It would be much better if they were equals.

"Are the two of you sleeping together?" Izo burst out. Both Marco and Thatch looked at him, appalled. Marco felt his cheeks heat up.

"Of course not!" He had trouble keeping his voice reasonably quiet. After all, it wouldn't do for anyone to hear them.

"Really?" Izo raised one perfect eyebrow in a visible show of disbelief. "That's surprising, considering the way you look at him." Oh gods above, he was going to kill Izo someday. Thatch's gaze was flitting between the both of them, expression neutral.

"You do realize that he's a slave, right, Marco? It would never work out between the two of you." Marco groaned and lifted his hand to his face.

"You think that I don't know that, Izo?" He didn't even bother denying it, not when Izo obviously knew better. "I keep telling myself that every single day, but these weird feelings won't stop no matter what I do! And worst of all is that I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore." Izo took his arm and steered him over to the couch. They both sat down on it and Izo started rubbing soothing circles on his back, between his shoulderblades.

"You know that I'd like to help you, right? You've been alone for far too long. But that kid? He's of a much lower class. The lowest, Marco. And no matter how much I wish that I could say that you should go for it, I'm not sure that that's a good idea." Marco buried his head in his hands.

"I know, Izo. I know. I hate feeling like this. I can barely keep my emotions in check any more. I don't feel like _me_."

They both looked up at the sound of quiet footsteps. Ace walked into the room, carrying a large stack of papers that looked like it would topple over any second. Marco was about to rise to help him, but Izo held him down and shot him a stern look. They stared at each other for a while, and Marco was finally forced to relent and settled on making himself more comfortable on the couch instead. They all observed Ace as he put the papers down on the table in front of the couch and moved awkwardly to the side.

Izo shot Marco a look of pity, but he ignored him, opting to lean forward and spread the papers out. A few seconds later, they were all looking at the drawings again.

"Why am I not surprised that this is what you needed to talk to us about?" Thatch asked rhetorically. Marco shrugged his shoulders.

"Seeing as you're my brother, I'd be surprise if you _didnt_ know. Now concentrate, Thatch." Thatch pouted at him.

"Fiiine."

"Thank you. Now, while we were out on our small shopping trip-" He glanced at Ace to see fingering the hem of the tunic. _Right. That's made from the material we'd bought then, isn't it? _"-we _coincidentally _stumbled across the place where Bonney was killed."

"Coincidentally, my ass," Thatch grumbled. Izo turned to him, appalled, and swatted his arm. It wasn't a weak swat, either. Marco almost flinched in sympathy as Thatch gulped.

"What did I say about using such language, Thatch?" Izo asked sweetly.

"Sorry! Err- I mean, I apologise." Thatch squeaked almost inaudibly.

"There, that wasn't so hard now, was it honey?" Thatch frantically shook his head from side to side. Marco caught Ace stifling a snicker of amusement and smiled. At least one of them was having fun. "Now, Marco. What did you find?"

"We found out which way the rebels had come from, and something doesn't add up. Unless they knew their way around the whole- and I mean _whole_\- every single street and alley- town, they shouldn't have been able to get to the place where they killed her. It was one of the smallest, most hidden alleys. And that's not all- I think they that they had been lying in wait, for her, because from where Bonney was standing, she should have been able to see anyone who was following her, or who was ahead of her."

"But that means that they must've been working with someone…" Thatch muttered. Marco nodded.

"Someone had to have told them that she'd be there." Marco turned to Ace, who was staring at the drawing of Bonney on the table. "What do you think, Ace?" he asked, ignoring Izo's berating stare. Ace looked up, startled.

"Me?" he asked. Marco nodded smiling encouragingly.

"Yes, you. We could use a fresh pair of eyes". Ace's eyes darted from him, to Thatch and Izo, before finally settling on him once again.

"I think that you're right, Mar- Master." Marco cocked an eyebrow as though to prompt him to keep speaking, because he just _knew_ that Ace had more to say. Ace's tongue darted out to wet his lips in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness. "I think that someone also told our attackers that we'd be there when we were." Okay, so this was news to him. Marco hadn't really thought that the bandits that had attacked them had had any motives other than to rob them.

There really was no such thing as a coincidence, was there?

"What makes you say that?" he asked curious. Ace must have seen something he'd missed.

"Well... when the smoke bomb went off, I heard one of them say that you were supposed to be easier to kill." Marco blinked He hadn't heard anything like that. Then again, when the smoke bomb had gone off he was too busy trying to keep Ace from bleeding out to worry about some hastily thrown words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thatch and Izo look at each other worriedly.

"What?" he asked them. Izo jabbed Thatch in the ribs, silently telling him to speak first. Thatch took a deep breath.

"Marco, I don't think that those were just any bandits," Thatch started. "I was walking around town one evening, and I overheard something, and-" Thatch was cut off by Izo, who seemed to dislike Thatch's stalling to tell Marco what was going on.

"You're on a hit list, Marco."

* * *

By the time Thatch and Izo left, it was already dark outside. He'd seen that Marco had been hesitant to let them leave at this hour and had even offered them a room to stay in, but Thatch had convinced him that he and Izo would be safe.

Right now, Ace was looking down at the drawings laid out on the desk in front of him. He furrowed his eyebrows as he carefully analyzed each one.

_Marco's mother. Monkey D Garp. Sengoku. Kuzan. X Drake. Capone Bege. Scratchmen Apoo. Basil Hawkins. Urouge. _And recently_\- Jewelry Bonney._

Ace turned to face Marco, who was looking over his shoulder. As their faces neared each other's, Ace noticed Marco gaze shoot down to his lips, before quickly returning to his eyes \\. He smirked slightly, but the smirk fell when he thought back to the matter at hand. He didn't want to say anything in front of Thatch and Izo, but this was something that Marco needed to know, especially now that there was a price on his head, considering that Ace was pretty sure that he knew who exactly had _placed _that price on his head. He didn't want Marco to die because of some minor lack of information.

Marco needed to be made aware of what was more or less going on. There was no other choice.

"Don't you find it weird that they were all enemies of the present king?" Ace asked hesitantly, looking Marco straight in the eyes. Marco stared at him, appalled. Ace fought not to take a step back.

"Are you suggesting that the king-" he demanded furiously.

"No, no! Nothing like that!" Ace defended himself quickly. "I just think that it's extremely odd that these people who publicly opposed the king all got taken out." Marco pursed his lips, and they were both silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. It was a while before Marco spoke.

"If- _If!- _what you're insinuating is true, then that would mean that the rebels are either working for the king, or for someone who works for the king." Ace nodded slowly, but bit his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Right, the rebels… Should he tell Marco? Or should he keep the secret a secret? He doubted that he could come up with a cover story quickly enough, and besides, he'd never been very good at lying. Omitting the truth? Yeah. But not outright lying, _especially_ not to the man he was pretty sure he had fallen in love with.

As it turned out, the choice was taken away from him with Marco's next words.

"You seem to know an awful lot about the politics of this country for a mere slave," Marco stated suspiciously. Ace tensed, fighting not to scoff at the word 'mere'. There was no backing out now. He just hoped that Marco would give him the chance to explain himself before killing him- because there was almost no doubt in his mind that Marco would be tempted to.

"Do I really?" he asked, trying to play for time. It probably wouldn't work, but oh well. It was worth a shot. At least it would grant him some time to figure out how to phrase his next words.

"You do," Marco confirmed. Ace's heart was beating furiously in his chest, threatening to burst from his rib cage. Adrenaline quickly made its way into his veins, and as Marco glared down at him suspiciously, he got an intense feeling of deja vu. And, worst of all, he couldn't come up with anything. Why, oh why, did his people skills have to suck so much?

Ace really, really hoped that he wouldn't get killed for what he was going to say next.

"I let myself get caught."

"...What?" Marco asked, taken off guard. A few seconds passed before he figured out what Ace was talking about. Ace tried to look as small and non-threatening as possible as Marco loomed over him.

"I let myself be taken into slavery," Ace explained, "It was the only way to get into the capital. As a regular civilian I would have stood out far too much among all of the nobles, and been kicked out before I got my hands on any information, but since slaves are generally unnoticeable, I-"

"_Information?_" Marco hissed. "_What kind of information?_" Shit, Ace was downright terrified now. The only time he'd seen Marco this angry was… well… a few months back, when he'd pissed him off by calling him spoiled and- Ace mentally slapped himself. He needed to get his thoughts back on track. All this cortisol was doing bad things to his brain.

"Marco, please, calm down-" Ace pleaded. The situation wasn't looking too good. Actually, it was looking terrible, and Ace had no idea how to make it any better. Nothing. _Nada. _And here he'd thought that this info was going to save Marco's life. Maybe it would, if Marco believed him, but right now Ace was wondering if that same information wouldn't play a part in _him_ losing _his_ life.

"Do not tell _me_ to calm down! Who are you, really? What are you doing here?" Marco demanded. Ace took a deep breath in a futile attempt to get his racing heart under control.

"My name is Portgas D. Ace. As you already know, I'm from Foosha Village. I was sent here to gather information on the king, and the group that's impersonating the rebels." Ace said carefully, not wanting to give away too much, until he was sure that Marco wouldn't kill him and tell someone else what he'd just heard.

"_Impersonating?" _Marco ascertained. He was glaring at Ace with such hatred, that it made Ace want to run. But he couldn't. He had to stay here, to make sure that Marco understood. Not that he could run anywhere Marco wouldn't find him… "Who sent you?! Why do you think that people are impersonating the rebels?!"

"I was sent by my father. He's the leader of the rebels, and I know for a _fact_ that they would never attack people." Ace breathed out in a rush. He had to make Marco see that he was only trying to help. That _all _of the rebels were only trying to help this sick and corrupt country. Marco only scoffed in disbelief. Ace's heart failed him as he realized that his words were doing nothing.

"Of course they don't." Marco's words were soaked through with sarcasm. "What lie are you going to tell me next? That they don't rob innocents either?" Ace felt a growing sense of horror as Marco turned away from him and started to briskly walk away. He reached out his hand to grab Marco's wrist and try to stop him, but stopped when he realized what he'd been about to do. Physical contact between a slave and his Master, initiated by the slave, was looked down upon. He couldn't do something like that. t would only make matters worse.

"I have never- _not once!-_ lied to you Marco! I swear, I'm telling you the truth!" Ace shouted after him, taking a few steps forwards, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Marco opened the door and quickly called for guards, who showed up immediately. Their steely eyes glared at Ace, and both had their hands on their weapons, looking ready to attack him at his slightest movement.

"Lock him up. I want eyes on him at all times." Ace started backing away slowly, only for his thighs to hit Marco's desk. His hands travelled atop the surface behind him, fongers looking for something, _anything_, the could use in order to protect himself.

Except for a few sheets of paper, he came up empty-handed.

The guards came up to him. He was roughly grabbed by his arms and cuffed. They pulled him out of the room by the chain attached to the cuffs, uncaring of the pain they were causing Ace when the rough and uneven surface of the metal scraped against the delicate skin of his wrists. Despite this, Ace didn't make it easy for them to get him out of the room. He struggled against the cuffs in a vain attempt to get to Marco.

"Marco, please! _Listen _to me!" he begged. Marco who'd been looking away from him throughout the whole ordeal, turned to glare at him once more.

"_Never, ever _call me by my name again!"

As Ace was forcibly removed from the study, he was sure that the sight of those beautiful blue eyes, looking down at him with a fierce hate would be forever etched into his brain.

* * *

He was in pain. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because Ace had broken his trust? Because yes, he _had_ trusted Ace. They'd known each other for so long that they'd managed to become- dare he say it- friends.

At least, that was what he'd thought before it had turned out that Ace was only a spy.

Part of his still couldn't believe that Ace was part of the group that had killed his mother. It all seemed so surreal! One moment, they'd been talking about… what? He didn't remember. He found that he couldn't remember much of what had happened before the...disagreement.

His heart hurt. Why? He didn't want it to. He would do anything to get it to stop. Marco placed his hand on his chest and clenched his fist around the soft, delicate fabric of his toga. He staggered over to the chair standing in front of his desk and sat down. He leaned down and put his head on the cool surface of his desk, hair falling to the front of his head. He was tired, more so than he'd been in a long, long time. He just wanted to go lie down in his bed, maybe grab a good book, and pretend that none of what had just happened was real. That Ace was still _his_ Ace.

His Ace, huh?

Marco lifted his head slightly, only to drop it down once again and allow it to hit the desk with thud.

"Stupid," he breathed. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid._" He lifted his head one more time, about to repeat his previous action, when his eyes fell on the drawing of his mother. He reached for it and held it before him.

She'd been killed by the rebels. Marco's gaze slid from one drawing to the next. They all had. They'd all been murdered by those bandits.

Or had they?

Ace had turned out to be a liar, but Marco couldn't help but believe that the words he'd spoken had been sincere. Ace had said that the rebels hadn't been responsible for the killings. But after everything that happened, could Marco believe him?

That reminded him of something else that Ace had said. He'd told Marco that everyone who'd been killed had been an enemy of the king. Not all of them had been public public enemies, but an enemy was still an enemy. X Drake and Capone Bege had been the most outspoken about what they believed, but Marco had it on good authority that the rest hadn't liked the king either.

Ever since his mother had been killed, he'd kept track of all the people said to have been murdered by the rebels. He'd studied each and every one of them carefully, trying to figure out whether or not there was anything that could connect the targets. He'd found nothing, besides the fact that they were all nobles, and, therefore, extremely rich. He'd also noticed that they were all against the king, but he hadn't paid it much attention since it hadn't seemed important at the time.

Marco wasn't stupid. He knew that the king and most of the officials were corrupt. His mother had been very outspoken about this fact, and had made it her life's mission to track down the unjust.

However, now that Ace had given him some new information, some of the pieces were starting to fall into place. Jewelry Bonney hadn't been robbed. In fact, many others who'd been killed had all still had their valuable items with them when they'd been found dead. It also explained why none of the king's supporters had been killed by the 'rebels'.

It would seem that King Akainu didn't take too kindly to opposition. Then again, that wasn't all that surprising. He didn't take too kindly to anything or anyone in general. Still, though… this would mean that he'd killed his own brother! Marco shook his head to clear it of the chaos that was his thoughts at the moment. He'd need to talk to Ace when he calmed down. He looked out the window. The moon was high up in the sky now. It had been at least two hours since he'd had Ace locked up. A part of him felt guilty because of what he did- Ace had told him a while ago that he hated having his freedom taken away, which only made him feel worse- but another part of him was saying that he did the right thing. All threats to the empire had to be eliminated, and that's what Ace undoubtedly was- a threat.

But… could he kill him? Just the thought of doing something like that, even if not by his own hands, had him feeling sick to the stomach. It shouldn't matter, right? Ace was just a slave. Even before he'd allowed himself to be captured, he'd probably been no higher than of middle class. Although, seeing as Foosha Village was a tiny place, he doubted that anyone who lived there was of middle class, which meant that Ace had been of working class.

Still, killing Ace didn't sit well with him. He knew that he wouldn't have given this much thought to anyone else. He'd had slaves punished before and hadn't been happy to do it, but those actions hadn't brought forth such a large wave of disgust as the mere _thought _of something like this happening to Ace. For some reason, he couldn't stand the thought of Ace, in particular, getting hurt.

Marco didn't know what was going on with him. All of these rampaging emotions were just too much. They were clashing with one another, making him feel dizzy. He stood up and started walking to his bedroom. It was late now. He'd go to sleep, then he'd go talk to Ace tomorrow in the morning. Ace would explain a few things, and maybe Marco could finally manage to make some sense of what he was feeling.

Because he was damn well sure that he wasn't supposed to be feeling as though someone had torn his heart in two.

* * *

As it turned out, Marco didn't go talk to Ace until two days later. He wasn't sure why he kept putting it off. Maybe because he wasn't sure how he'd react upon seeing him again? Maybe he was afraid that hatred would rear its ugly head, and he'd do something he'd regret later? He just didn't trust himself to be able to look Ace in the eyes and not do anything stupid while n a state of emotional turmoil.

Besides, the stalling gave him some time to think. He'd decided that he would give Ace a chance to explain himself and decide what to do from there. Although, to be honest, he was a little bit scared.

And Marco Phoenix didn't scare easily.

He walked down the stairs into the basement, where all the cells were located, Ace's included. The sconces shed some minor light on the rough surface of the gray stones that made up the walls and floor. He noted that it was cold here. Well, not really _cold_, but colder than it had been upstairs.

Ace probably wasn't all that warm in just his tunic, was he?

His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty passage. Step after step, he was slowly getting closer to Ace. At one point, Marco found himself reluctant to go any farther. He'd even debated on whether or not to turn back and pretend that nothing was wrong, that Ace didn't exist. He wanted to run away from his problems,and it was so unlike him. He'd always preferred to face everything head on, but now he just wanted to get himself a nice, warm cup of tea and curl up with a good book.

Despite these thoughts, he forced his feet to keep moving. Eventually, he came upon the guard who'd been stationed to keep an eye on Ace. The man looked up. He didn't seem to be very surprised to see him and merely nodded his head in greeting. Marco responded with the same, before shooting a glance at Ace's cell. It was too dark- he couldn't see anything from here.

"Please leave us." The man nodded, and started walking the way Marco had just come from. When he'd disappeared around the corner, Marco grabbed a torch from the wall and moved so that he was standing in front of the cell.

Ace was sitting cross-legged on the floor, chained up against the wall. He was looking at the ground in front of him, stubbornly refusing to meet Marco's gaze. There was some dried blood at the corner of his lip. Marco caught himself wondering if Ace had put up a fight. He probably had- Ace had never been one to keep quiet when he disagreed with something.

"How are you?" Marco asked, slightly uncomfortable with the silence. That was also unlike him. He'd never had anything against silence before. Ace had changed him, and how he hadn't noticed until now was beyond him.

When Ace didn't answer, Marco sighed. He sat down on the floor, not caring if he dirtied his clothes. The cold seeped into his body despite the fabric, and he couldn't help but feel bad for Ace. He really should have come sooner…

"I've decided to listen to what you have to say." Ace looked up at this, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Marco couldn't help the slight upwards twitch of his lips.

"I-" Ace started, only to break off. He hung his head again. "Thank you," he whispered. Marco merely hummed. "Wh- what do you want to know?" Ace's voice was different. Rougher, more hoarse. Like he had a sore throat.

Yeah, that was probably it. Marco doubted that Ace had been given any food or water over the course of his stay down in the basement. He sounded parched. Marco looked around in search of anything that might contain water, but came up empty-handed. He sighed again.

"How about you start at the beginning? What are you doing here?" he asked. It seemed as good a place as any to start. Ace slightly chewed on his lower lip before speaking.

"Last year, my father asked for someone to get into the capital in order to obtain info on the group that's impersonating us." Ace chuckled bitterly. "I was the only one stupid enough to volunteer. Seeing as there was no other way to get into the capital, I let myself get caught by Teach's men and became a slave." Ace sighed.

"I had it all planned out. I was supposed to find something- anything!- then escape and relay it to the others back home. It was supposed to be easy! But then it turned out that Teach thought that I wasn't good for anything other than fighting,so I was kept in my cell for most of the time, and none of the other slaves knew anything. I wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to do then." Ace brought his head back up and made eye contact.

"Then you came along and got me out of there. I admit, I didn't think someone like you would know any more than Teach, but I guess I was wrong. It took a while, but then you told me about your mother, and we went to check out the place where the impersonators murdered someone." Ace smiled slightly. "I was thrilled when I found that you were investigating everything, too. I thought that I'd hit the fucking jackpot. But I swear, I never meant to hurt anyone! None of the rebels did."

Ace dropped his head and closed his eyes. Marco wanted to interrupt, to say something, but some little voice at the back of his head was telling him to let Ace continue speaking, although it seemed that Ace had run out of things to say. Marco wanted to ask why Ace hadn't told him sooner, but then he realized that it was a stupid question. Ace had been afraid of being killed. After all, the penalty for being a spy was death, and as Ace's master, Marco would have to be the one to administer the punishment.

And Ace was telling him now. Of his own free will, no less. Marco wasn't sure what to think of this. Either Ace was trying to save his own skin by spinning another web of lies, or… he really meant everything he was saying. Every word. Either way, it was a large gamble, because Marco could easily relay every word he'd just heard back to the king's men, which would probably cause the slaughter of the whole of Foosha Village.

Still, Marco was more inclined to believe the second possibility- that Ace was telling the truth. Maybe because it meant that Ace did trust him, to some extent, and that warmed his heart.

"I believe you." And he did. Even though it was irrational, he didn't care. For some unknown to him reason, he believed every word of what Ace had just said.

However, when he spoke those three words, he heard a quiet sniffle. He examined Ace more closely. His shoulders were shaking. Marco was surprised to see tears falling to the ground, glimmering in the limited light supplied by the torch.

"Thank the gods. I… I just…" Ace's voice was uneven, but overflowing with relief. Marco had never seen Ace cry- not once. He'd always seemed to be so strong. Immediately, he was overcome with the urge to comfort him.

Although it probably wasn't the smartest course of action, that's exactly what he did. He stood up, grabbed the ring of keys off the wall and rushed to open the cell. Once inside, he took Ace's chains off and enveloped him in a warm embrace. Although Ace tensed at first, he didn't pull away and melted into Marco a few moments later. Marco carded his fingers through Ace's hair soothingly, waiting for Ace's quiet sobs to die out.

"It's okay," he murmured. His heart was tap dancing a furious rhythm against his ribcage. He was closer to Ace than ever before- of course he wouldn't be able to stay calm. In fact, he seemed to be hyper aware of everything that was going on- every touch of their skin, his each and every movement...

He really was in love with Ace, wasn't he? Ace had unknowingly all but wrapped Marco around his little finger.

Ace finally moved to wrap his arms around Marco in return, bringing him closer. It was only now that Marco noticed how cold Ace's skin was. Now he was feeling really guilty for not having come sooner.

"I'm sorry," Ace whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Shhh." Ace lifted his head, and their lips were only millimeters apart. Marco couldn't hold them back anymore- all the emotions and urges… He leaned forward and closed the distance between them.

Ace's lips were chapped, but warm and inviting nonetheless. Marco closed his eyes and leaned in even farther. He used his hold on Ace's hair to bring him closer, all the while moving his own lips against his. He was shocked when Ace didn't pull back, and even more so when he placed his own arms around Marco's neck in an attempt to get closer to him. When they finally separated in dire need of oxygen, they were both panting slightly. Marco leaned his forehead on Ace's shoulder.

Wow. That had been… wow. All logical thoughts had just left his brain. Marco shuddered when Ace ran his hand down his spine, letting it rest on the small of his back. All of these actions prompted him to say something he was sure he'd regret later, but he couldn't hold it in anymore- he had to let it all out.

"I think I'm in love with you," Marco breathed out in a rush, maybe hoping a little that Ace wouldn't hear him. His heart almost stopped beating when he felt Ace stop moving, and his hand slid from Marco's back to rest on the ground. He shouldn't have said anything. In his mind's eye, he could vividly see Izo glaring at him. He really really shouldn't have said anything.

Then again, he shouldn't have kissed Ace in the first place. What was going on with him? Over the sound of the blood pounding in his head and his own anxiousness about the situation, he didn't hear Ace's soft chuckle, and barely registered how his arm came up to rest around his neck, the second joining it soon after.

"I think I'm in love with you too," he whispered. Marco to raised his head. He met Ace's eyes. They were… sincere. He couldn't believe that this was happening. They sat there for another minute or so, wrapped in a warm embrace and looking at each other, until Ace eventually turned around and sneezed.

"I think we should get you some place warmer," Marco said, standing up and reaching out his hand to help Ace up. The smile Ace shot him was dazzling.

It was the first genuine smile he'd ever seen on Ace's face.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Despite the fact that he was sure that this relationship wouldn't work, that they'd be forced to hide it, and most likely break it up sooner or later because of society and its rules, Marco couldn't bring himself to care. The person he loved with all his heart had just told him that he loved him back, against all odds. He felt as though he was dreaming, because this? This had been the one thing he'd never expected to happen, not once in a million years.

For the first time in a long time, he felt happy.

Really, really happy.

* * *

They were awoken in the dead of the night by the sound of the alarm. Marco was first to wake up. He quickly got out of their shared bed and practically ran to the large window in his study to see what was going on.

It wasn't as dark as it should have been at this time of night- far from. Bright, orange flames lit up the night sky, painting intricate patterns against the dark velvet and shedding light on the surroundings. Everything was on fire- all the fields, even the slaves' barracks. Fear reared its ugly head as he realized that there people were most likely still in those buildings. Hearing footsteps behind him, he quickly turned around, ready to attack whoever it was.

Ace's hair was slightly tousled, and one of his hands had reached up to rub at his eye almost childishly. He yawned.

"Ma'co? Wass gon' on?" he asked, voice a mixture of confusion and fear. Marco hurried past him to his desk. "Marco?" The lack of a response seemed to awaken him. A quick glance told Marco that Ace was looking out the window. "What the he- Marco, what's going on?" Marco started rummaging in the drawers. He pulled out a bag, and hastily threw a bit of gold in it. After that came the notes about all he'd managed to find out about the impersonators.

Because he knew exactly who it was that was attacking them.

"There's no time, Ace. We have to go. They… they know." He watched Ace's eyes widen in realization. His mouth opened slightly.

"No…" he whispered in disbelief. Marco gritted his teeth.

The king had sent his men. And they were after his head.

Just when he'd thought he had anything he'd ever wanted. He'd been so happy over the last few days- _Ace _had made him so happy. And now… now people were coming after them. And it was all his fault.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess," he whispered. Ace walked up to him.

"Hey." Marco didn't stop what he was doing. "Marco, look at me." Marco did as he was told. At any other time, he would've thought about how ironic it was that he was taking orders from a slave, but not now. He had other, more important things on his mind right now. "You didn't drag me into anything. I'm just as much at fault here as you are." They only kept eye contact for a few seconds, before Marco broke it. He grabbed Ace's hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door.

"Come on, we have to go. Now." Truthfully, he didn't want to leave all of his people behind- in fact, he hated having to do so, but what was most important to him at the moment was protecting Ace, no matter what the costs, because Marco was sure that they would want to kill Ace, too. There was also the fact that if he and Ace were killed, there would be no one left to bring the truth to light. Thatch and Izo only knew so much, and someone needed to make the public aware of what King Akainu was doing.

But Marco had to wonder how they'd found out that he knew what was going on- because he was certain that was the reason they were coming after him. The only people he'd discussed the situation with were Ace, Thatch, and Izo. No one else should have known anything. He'd always gone to great lengths to make sure that none of their conversations were overheard.

He recalled something Thatch had once said to him

"_This little investigation of yours is going to get you in trouble, Marco. Be careful."_

If only Thatch had known _exactly_ what kind of trouble he would get himself into. Thinking of Thatch brought to mind another problem- would the king go after his family now? Or was it just going to be him? Would he be able to get a message to them, to tell them what was going on? Or would that just lead the king right to them?

But he couldn't think about that now. Right now, his main focus had to be getting out of here.

They were at one of the back doors of his residence the one in the kitchen. Marco grabbed for the key that hung on a hook to the left of the doorframe and shoved it into the lock.

"I thought you'd be here," Both he and Ace whirled around to look at the person behind them. It was the man who had guarded Ace's cell. Suddenly, everything became crystal clear. The king had planted spies at his residence, and this man was one of them.

"You!" Ace looked ready to lunge at him, but Marco's grip on his wrist held him back.

Oh, if it isn't the Master's little bitch." The guard smirked snidely. "I'm afraid I can't let either of you leave," he stated. He reached out his hand. Light reflected off the metal blade in his hand as he took a step forward. There was one thing that Marco didn't understand, though. He knew that they were short in time, but either way, this was something that he needed to know.

"Why now? Why didn't you kill me while I was asleep, or at any other time?" he asked. The guard looked at him as though he thought Marco was stupid.

"Why? Because it would be much harder to frame the rebels that way. After all, _they _always do things with a bang- not silent assassinations," the spy replied, drawing out the word 'they' and grinning maliciously. Out of the corner of his eye, Marco saw Ace inching towards the kitchen counter. From where he was standing, he couldn't see what was on it, but if he had to guess, he'd say that Ace had just found himself some sort of weapon. Now he needed to get to it without drawing too much attention to himself, which meant that Marco would need to stall the spy. He wanted to groan.

At any other time, he would've taken the man on himself, but he had no clue as to how strong this one was, and he didn't want Ace to get hurt in the process, especially seeing as the man had a weapon. Their only option appeared to be stealth. "Your little bitch was right, you know. The rebels? They've never had anything to do with this. King Akainu, however, as you know, has everything to do with this. He's been keeping on eye on you for a while now, and after that last conversation you had with him-" The spy gestured towards Ace with the knife. "-King Akainu figured that it was dangerous to allow you to roam free, so here we are."

"What about Jewelry Bonney? You killed her quietly." Marco asked, still stalling for time. Ace was in front of the counter by now. All he had to do was to reach for the knife…

"She was an exception to the rule. She had to be taken care of quickly- she'd figured out too much." The spy sighed. "We tried killing you the same way, back when you didn't know half of what you know now, but you got away. It's too bad that we weren't able to kill at least one of you, but that doesn't matter now. You're both going to be dead within seconds, and after you, _Master_, we'll go for your family, and after that- his," he stated, motioning towards Ace again. Marco saw Ace tense. Before either he or the spy had time to react, he shot out his hand, grabbed the knife, and threw it at the man, observing coolly as it lodged itself deep inside his heart. Marco watched as Ace walked forward and used his foot to drive the knife deeper into the dying man's body.

"That's for threatening my family. And Marco." Turning around to face the door once again, Marco smiled. Ace rushed past him the moment the door was open, grabbing his hand. "We spent too much time here." And Marco agreed wholeheartedly.

"I think I should thank you for saving my life yet again." Ace grinned back at him.

"Don't mention it." They wove their way through the burning buildings. Surprisingly, there were no screams of panic. Marco wasn't sure as to how he should feel about this, because it either meant that everyone was dead, or that they'd been captured.

As he followed Ace through the fields, he couldn't help but to hope it was the second option, because at least that meant that they were still alive. Looking around, Marco realized that he had no idea where they were anymore. Thankfully, Ace seemed to know exactly where he was going. Still, Marco was a little worried.

"Are you sure that we're going the right way?" he asked. At Ace's nod, he relaxed slightly. It was funny how his slave- although that's not what Ace was anymore, not really- knew his way around Marco's residence better than Marco himself.

"Don't worry, I know exactly where we are. I had an escape plan ready _months_ ago." Oh. Then again, that didn't come as as big a surprise that it should have. He should have know that Ace would try to find a way back to his family no matter what the cost. The thought of it made him smile. In this situation, that was a good thing- it would hopefully get them out of here reasonably quickly.

Eventually, they came to the fence. Marco raised his eyebrows.

"You want to break the fence?" he asked. He wasn't too keen on the idea, because this particular fence was very strong and wouldn't be easy to destroy. Thankfully, Ace shook his head and walked forward. His body concealed whatever he was doing, but a few seconds later one of the wide pickets came loose and he crawled through the hole, motioning for Marco to follow, which he did without a second thought. It was a miracle that this part of the fence hadn't caught fire yet.

They found themselves out in an open field. Not a good place to be in their situation.

"We have to get to the border," Marco said. But which way was the border? From his maps he recalled that it was located around 35 miles north of the capital, but which way was north? He was ripped from his thoughts when Ace tugged on his arm.

"This way, then." They started running as fast as their legs could carry them in an attempt to get out of the open, where anyone could see them. It was the middle of the night, but Marco doubted that they would be fast enough to reach the border before the first rays of the sun hit the Earth.

They'd been running for at least two hours when it started getting lighter. Thankfully, by this time they were out of the open fields and in the woods. They'd refused to slow down much, for fear of the king's men catching up with them, but seeing as they were in a forest, they couldn't run as fast as they wanted to, lest they trip over or crash into something. They were about ten kilometers away from the border, and halfway through the forest when Marco heard the first barks and shouts. He turned his head to look behind them-

-and immediately wished he hadn't. There were at least twenty men on horseback not far behind them, accompanied by at least four dogs- bloodhounds, from the look of it.

"Faster," he wheezed, although he knew that they couldn't go much faster, not after running non-stop for the past two hours. It was a miracle that they hadn't collapsed yet. It was probably thanks to the adrenaline.

What happened next caught him out of the blue. One second, Ace was right next to him, and the next something whizzed by and Ace wasn't there anymore. Marco stopped running and looked back. Ace was on the ground, clutching desperately at his bloody leg.

There was an arrow stuck in it. All of a sudden it seemed as though Marco's blood had turned to ice in his veins.

"_No…"_

Having heard Marco, Ace turned to look at him. The fear in his eyes was clear, but it didn't seem as though that fear was for himself. In fact, it seemed to Marco that Ace was more afraid for _him_ than he was for himself.

"Go!" Ace shouted, "Run! Get to Foosha, ask for Gol D. Roger! You have to let the country know what the king is up to!" But Marco couldn't. He couldn't bear to leave Ace behind. He loved him far, far too much to subject him to such a fate.

And it was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but he decided to stay with Ace, and maybe try to protect him if he could. Within seconds, Marco was by Ace's side, kneeling down next to him. Ignoring Ace's shouts and pleas for him to leave, to save himself, Marco carefully dislodged the arrow from Ace's leg, ignoring his quiet whimper as the wooden shaft was torn out. Marco quickly took off his toga and ripped off a long strip of the cloth. It's not like he would need it where he was going to end up, anyway. He took the cloth and wrapped it around Ace's injured leg in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. He was about to start tying it off when the first of the men arrived, sword in his hand.

"Git yer 'ands in th' air!" he shouted, spit flying from his mouth. Marco wrinkled his nose in distaste at the sight, but paid the man no further attention, completely ignoring the sword being pointed his way. Instead, he finished making the knot, glad to see that the blood had stopped trickling down Ace's leg and onto the ground. He probably wouldn't die of blood loss, but unless he got medical attention soon, the injury would get infected.

In any case, he seriously doubted that either of them were going to get medical attention anytime soon. They were probably going to end up dead.

"I said ter git up!" Marco stood up slowly and raised his hands, pausing only to spare a quick glance at Ace, who was in no condition to push himself up off the ground. It was weird. The Ace he knew was strong. He'd never let his injuries bother him.

Then again, Marco doubted he'd ever had an injury like this before.

"We are unarmed," he stated calmly, watching as more and more people arrived. They all had their weapons in their hands, pointed towards the both of them, poised to kill them

"I can see that." Marco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He knew that voice. But where did he know it from...?

The men moved their horses to the side in order to make way for someone, most likely the man who'd just spoken.

Marshall D Teach.

Ace had gone a deathly pale- and although blood loss was probably part of the cause, Marco was sure the it was mostly the appearance of this particular man that had caused him to react in such a way.

So Teach was working for Akainu- Marco refused to call him 'King' any longer. In any case, it didn't really surprise him- he'd never liked Teach, and of all the people he knew, Teach certainly was the most greedy, and willing to do anything in order to get his grubby hands of some gold.

Even become a traitor to the people of his country, it would seem.

"Marco, my friend. I believe I haven't seen you in quite some time. How have you been?" Teach asked, trying to make conversation. Marco wasn't sure why he wanted to talk, but decided to go along with it. Maybe if he bought some time, he's figure out a way to get out of this mess.

Yeah… that was probably impossible. There was no way Teach would allow them to escape, not after having spent so much time chasing them down.

"I've been just fine, thank you." He really was being too polite for the situation, wasn't he? He sighed mentally. Teach looked over at Ace, who was sitting on the ground, both of his hands gripping at his injured leg. They were so tense, that Marco could see every single bone protruding from underneath the pale skin.

"I see my old slave has been keeping you company. I have to admit, he was a good choice, although, as you probably already know, he can be a bit feisty at times." Marco glared at Teach, anger boiling just underneath his skin. He was about to retort, but Ace beat him to it.

"Cut the crap, Teach. Whaddya gonna do to us?" Teach tsk-ed.

"Still no respect for your betters, I see." Ace glared at him. Teach looked at one of his men and motioned towards Ace with his head. The man got off his horse and walked forward. Marco, surrounded by weapons that were pointed at him, ready to kill him at his slightest movement, was left unable to do anything but watch as the man delivered a sharp kick to Ace's ribs. The sharp crack that resounded had Marco wanting to kill him. To kill them all. Because how _dare_ they lay a hand on Ace? On someone who couldn't possibly defend themselves?

He watched, fuming, as Teach sighed exaggeratedly and turned to two other men.

"Tie them up. We're taking them back to the capital." Teach turned around, urging his horse forward, not bothering to wait for anyone, knowing that they would all catch up eventually.

He and Ace really had no way out of this, did they? They couldn't run, not with the state Ace was in. They couldn't fight back, because there were too many men, and there was only one of Marco, because, once again, Ace would be unable to do anything.

He hated this. He hated being so weak and useless, being unable to protect one of the most precious people in his life. It was like the situation with his mother all over again. This wasn't what he'd trained for. He'd learned to fight in hopes of being able to kill men like these, to protect his family. But now, he was left unable to do anything, because if he did a single thing he wasn't supposed to, chances were that Ace would be the one to pay for his mistake.

Someone came to tie his hands up. Marco winced slightly as the rough rope dug into the delicate skin of his wrists. He looked at Ace. His hands were also being tied up, and he was being forced to stand. Marco saw the blood start to trickle from his leg injury again as it was reopened. The ends of both ropes were tied to a saddle.

As the horses started moving forward, he and Ace were left to follow. Ace was limping badly, but no one was taking any notice. Marco walked up to him, offering his shoulder for Ace to lean on. Ace shot him a grateful smile, moving so that he could take some of his body weight off his injured leg. His skin was cold and a bit clammy. Marco was worried. He doubted that Ace would be able to walk all the way back to the capital in this state.

It was only now that Marco realized that this was probably the last time they would ever get to be so close to each other. He moved his head closer to Ace's and planted a soft kiss on his hair. Ace nuzzled him weakly in return. Marco inhaled deeply, trying to sear the Ace's smell into his memory. He didn't want to be separated from Ace. They'd only been together for a short while, he didn't know if he'd be able to bear having Ace ripped from him. The way Ace was desperately clinging to him told Marco that he felt the same way. They both knew that there was very little hope that either of them were going to make it out of this situation alive.

"I love you," Marco whispered almost inaudibly, leaning back and gazing into Ace's eyes, watching them widen at the confession. This was the first time Marco had said that to him. Heck, it was the first time he'd said those three words to anyone. Granted, he'd already told Ace that he'd fallen in love with him, but being 'in love with' and 'loving' someone were, in his opinion, two entirely different concepts.

"I love you, too," Ace whispered back. He leaned in even farther to plant a quick kiss on Marco's lips, being careful not to let any of the men in front of them see- not that they were looking at their prisoners. It seemed that they had more interest in following Teach, who was leading them back to the capital. The kiss was amazing. His lips tingled asa they broe apart.

It was probably the last one they would ever share. His heart clenched in his chest. He wanted this to be a dream. Just another really bad nightmare, like the ones he'd had before, especially when he was younger. He wanted to be able to close his eyes, and upon reopening them to see the walls of his bedroom, Ace sleeping soundly next to him.

Ace… Marco made up his mind to protect him, no matter what was going to happen. If they weren't killed right away, he'd say that he'd forced Ace to come along. Anything at all to save his life.

Life, which was shortening with each drop of blood that fell to the hard ground beneath their feet.

It was a cruel and unjust world they lived in. Looking back at the way they had come from, at the place where they'd been forced to surrender, Marco couldn't help but to smile in triumph despite the situation he and Ace were in. The sniveling bastards hadn't won. Akainu hadn't won. Although their lives would come to an end soon, he'd left behind something important, something, that, if found by the right people, would secure the downfall of this wretched country's corrupt leaders.

He'd left the bag he'd been wearing, the one containing all the information he'd managed to gather thus far, hidden in the bushes. Now, someone just needed to find it, and he found himself hoping for something that he'd never thought he'd hope for- he wanted the rebels to be the ones to find it.

Because if anyone could do something to cure this country, it was them. Marco relaxed, remembering Ace's words about how the rebels would do anything to save this country. Ace had never lied to him. They'd do it. They'd save this country. He just knew it.

* * *

Ace hadn't seen Marco since he'd been locked up in a cell. Not a glimpse, and he'd been here for days already. He was tired. Very, very tired. He didn't even feel the pain of his rib nor leg anymore, even though he was sure the latter of the two had gotten infected at some point. There was a darkness slowly creeping into his field of vision. Ace shook his head in a failed attempt to get rid of it. He couldn't die now. No. Not after he'd gone through so much. He couldn't leave this world without passing on at least some small bit of information.

Not for the first time, he regretted not having listened to his mother when she'd told him not go. He hated himself for the heartbreak he was going to put her through when he died her, in the capital, fallen victim to the country's most corrupt. His whole family was going to be devastated when- if!- they found out.

The thing he felt the most terrible about was breaking the promise he'd made Luffy. He'd said that he would return, no matter what the cost. He'd never actually thought that he'd get tangled up in something as bad as this.

And Marco… where was Marco? Whatever the punishment may be for him, Marco's was very likely to be more severe, if that was at all possible. After all, Ace was just a slave- that wasn't a high position to have in this country. Marco was a noble, one of the members of the royal family. They could very easily try him with treason, or something else that would be just as bad.

Damn it! Why did this had to happen. When everything was finally starting to work out. He had the information he needed, a person he loved, and his family back home to return to. Why did everything he did, _every single damn thing, _have to turn out badly.

When he heard the sound of footsteps, he was hit with a fierce wave of deja vu. This was so much like what it had been back when he'd been Teach's slave. He looked up, glaring at the man who had come for him. The expression on Ace's face didn't deter the guard in the slightest as he unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.

"Git up." He'd recognize that horrendous accent anywhere. It was the same man who'd been with Teach when he and Marco had been caught. In one last attempt at defiance, Ace spit at him. The man made a disgusted sound, about to lash out at him with his foot, but someone else stopped him.

"Now, now. We don't want him to die just yet." Teach. Not for the first time, Ace wished that looks could kill. He'd have nothing against burning a hole through that thick skull of his. The man grumbled, but walked up to Ace and pulled at his cuffs, forcing him to his feet. Everything whirled around him, and Ace had to fight to keep himself standing. Damn his blood loss. Damn everything. He walked through a dark hallway and up a set of stairs. His eyes narrowed as they were assaulted by bright sunlight. He blinked a few times, trying to get them accustomed.

He was standing before an execution platform. The guard gave him a sharp nudge with his boot to get him to start walking again, so up the wooden steps he went. He was surprised to see Marco was already there, chained to the floor. He didn't turn to look at Ace as he was being chained up beside him.

Ace, meanwhile, couldn't tear his gaze away from Marco. His clothes were all torn and bloodied, and one of his arms was bent at an odd angle. He could see a prominent bruise on Marco's cheek as well.

_What have they done to you…?_

"Marco Phoenix. You have been found guilty of high treason. You are hereby sentenced to death by beheading. Do you have any last words?" Ace hadn't even seen the man come up to them. He finally tore his gaze away from Marco to look at the man, who was standing on the other side of Marco. Ace could have sworn that he was smiling. It made his blood boil.

The man was about to go on, when Marco spoke.

"Yes." He quickly glanced at Ace, before turning back towards the crowd gathered below the execution stand. Ace followed his gaze. "I would like to declare that whatever I did, I did for the good of my country. For many years, now, we have been subjected to the rule of corrupt leaders. Not many noticed this, but those who did ended up dead. Jewelry Bonney was one of them. Monkey D Garp. Sengoku. Even my own mother. They were both said to have been killed by the rebels." The people below started speaking to each other in hushed whispers.

"I have it on good authority that the rebels were not, in any way involved with the murders of these people, nor those of any others. I used to be like the rest of you before, loyal to the king to a fault. Until he decided to go after my head." Ace could hear many cries of outrage. He bit his lip and felt blood trickle down his chin. He looked away from the crowd, and turned instead to look at the dark stain that the red fluid had made on the wooden boards below. He'd always known that they wouldn't be believed. This is why the rebels always worked from the shadows. These people have been living their entire lives as a lie. To tell them that their king was bad would completely change everything. He couldn't help but admire Marco for his courage as he went on.

"The king has been lying to you. To all of you. He's corrupt and selfish and greedy. He would do anything to stay in power."

"Liar!"

"Why, our king would never!"

"Where's your proof?!"

Marco ignored these shouts and continued speaking.

"Your trust has been betrayed. As the citizens of this country, you have to rise up and protect it, before any more are killed by Akainu's greed!"

The man standing next to Marco cleared his throat.

"If that is all, then I must continue." He turned to Ace. "Portgas D Ace. You have been found guilty of treason alongside your master. You are also hereby sentenced to death by beheading." As a slave Ace didn't get any last words. His voice didn't count. Not that he had anything to say that anyone besides Marco needed to hear. He did, however, scan the crowd below for someone, anyone he knew.

There was a cloaked figure standing to the far left. They had a hood on, so Ace couldn't see their face, but something about them seemed familiar. As though they felt Ace's gaze on they, the person raised their right hand. Ace wondered why for a few seconds, before he saw what the figure was holding.

It was Marco's notebook.

The person raised their other hand to wipe their face. It was only now that Ace noticed how the sunlight reflected off tiny drops of liquid. Were those tears?

_Dad…?_

As the executioners walked up behind them, Ace turned to face Marco. There was one last thing he wanted to say before he left this world- one last thing he needed Marco to hear.

"I love you," he whispered. Marco turned towards him. Ace could see tears welling up in his eyes, exactly like the ones that were currently rising to the surface in his own. This was it. This was the end. For both of them.

"I love you, too." Their eyes met for the last time and-

_**Thud.**_

_**Thud.**_

* * *

**(A/N) If you want to kill me, I advise that you get in line XD.**

**Oh, and one more thing. I was planning on maybe eventually expanding on this world? Like, to make a series? Thoughts?**


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